Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

You can't know

Oh, no, you can't know

How much I think about you

No

It's making my head spin

Looking at you and you are looking at me

And we both know what we want

So close to giving in

Feels so nice, oh yeah, you feel so nice

Wish I could spend my life

But I can't pay the price

Oh no

No.

**

"Hermione? Hermione, are you awake yet?"

Hermione momentarily halted as she recognized the voice before continuing down the stairs. "Yes, I'm awake! I'm right here!"

Tonks whipped around in surprise and leaned against the closed door to Ginny's room in relief when she finally saw Hermione descending the stairs. "Oh. There you are. Molly said you were still in bed..." She trailed off as a smirk took over her face. "What were you doing upstairs?"

"I went to see if Ron was awake," Hermione lied innocently. "What did you think--oh, Tonks, really!" she gasped as she realized what Tonks had been insinuating with a covert wag of her eyebrows. Did everyone honestly think she was as randy as Lavender Brown?

"I won't pry," Tonks said with her arms lifted in surrender. "Ron's outside by the way; Molly just sent him to de-gnome the garden." She dropped the smug act and got down to the real reason she had been looking for Hermione. "I just got back from Australia."

"And?"

"And they're just fine," Tonks assured. "I checked out their hotel they're staying at and I can't find any sort of magic in the area, so that means no one knew they were coming. I put some preventive measures while they went out house-hunting so if anything does happen, the Australian Ministry will be alerted and knows to contact us and I've done every spell I know that'll protect their identity. They should be perfectly safe."

"Am I going to be able to find them after all of this is over?" Hermione asked. Her parents hadn't purchased a home or a practice yet so she had no idea where in Australia to search for them. That was one aspect of the plan Hermione hadn't considered until late last night and had kept her up for hours afterwards.

"I've taken care of that," Tonks promised. "I'll help you; don't worry."

"Okay." Hermione came forward to give the young woman a very grateful hug. The Order really had gone above and beyond the normal lines of duty to protect her family. "Thank you so much."

Tonks patted her cheek affectionately. "They're good people," she said. "I enjoyed my time with them." She extracted a wad of parchment from her back pocket. "And I got this for Arthur."

"What is it?"

"Very specific notes about the flight," Tonks chirped. "Thought it'd help him figure out those aeroplanes." She started towards the stairs, nearly tripping on her shoelaces as she went. "I better get to work to find him--see you!"

"See you," Hermione returned appreciatively. Poor Tonks had to endure a flight halfway around the world and now had to go straight into work. The Order really was too kind to her. Hermione slipped back into Ginny's room, but relaxed when she saw that the room was empty. Tonks had been right to be suspicious about Hermione's whereabouts before her arrival, but not for the reasons she had suspected. Hermione couldn't sleep so she had spent a great deal of the night making lists of things she needed to do before they left. She had been returning from the attic, where she had hidden those lists with Dumbledore's book, when Tonks had arrived. Hermione made sure nothing in the room could give any sort of clue about their mission before going downstairs to find some much-needed breakfast.

Mrs. Weasley, as always, was all too happy to oblige. Fleur sat at the table with Hermione, thoughtfully sipping her coffee and staring out the window, probably envisioning her wedding in intricate detail. Hermione finished eating as quickly as she could so she could join Ron outside, but Mrs. Weasley asked if she wouldn't mind helping her finish with the dishes. Hermione agreed and took her place by the sink so she could sort and store the cutlery while Mrs. Weasley finished scrubbing the pots and pans. Fleur knowingly wandered out of the kitchen with her coffee mug.

Mrs. Weasley dumped massive mound of silverware in front of Hermione. "So. Ron tells me that the three of you are dropping out of Hogwarts."

Hermione almost caused a massive avalanche of cutlery to go skidding about the kitchen. She managed to catch them just in time and steady the pile with both hands. "Yes," she answered carefully. "We are."

"To complete some secret mission for Albus?"

"Yes."

"Do you care to tell me just what this secret mission is, so I know why my son is risking his life?"

"No," Hermione said honestly. She grabbed a fistful of forks and tried to determine where to put them. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, but I can't."

"In there, dear." Mrs. Weasley pointed to the second drawer. Hermione gratefully dumped the silverware in the proper place and returned to her spot to continue the task. "Can you at least tell me why you can't tell us?"

"Because Harry made us swear not to and Dumbledore told him not to," Hermione said. She had a feeling that Mrs. Weasley would now turn on Harry for information, but it was the truth. Besides, no matter what, Harry would never reveal anything about the Horcruxes.

"Oh." Mrs. Weasley recast a Scouring spell on the pot she was scrubbing. She paused to wipe her forehead with her wrist. "Do you remember the last time we did this together, Hermione?"

Hermione did. She did all too well. She couldn't believe that Mrs. Weasley would use that against her. "At Grimmauld Place," Hermione replied. She returned to the second drawer another handful of forks. "We talked about Ron."

"We did," Mrs. Weasley confirmed. She waited in hopes that the memory of that moment would soften Hermione's will, but Hermione just kept on sorting silverware as if her life depended on it. Mrs. Weasley finally finished with the stubborn oatmeal pot and set it aside so she could start on the next one. Hermione had thought Mrs. Weasley had given up for the moment, but as she turned to cross to the silverware drawer again, Mrs. Weasley's hand was there to stop her. "Hermione, dear," Mrs. Weasley said quietly. "I know you think that the three of you are somehow going to help our cause with this mission of yours, but I don't think you realize how dangerous it is out there--"

"Believe me, we know," Hermione assured flatly.

Mrs. Weasley pressed on relentlessly. "You're going to need help. If you just tell us, I promise you, the Order will do everything they can to assist--"

"No. I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, I can't--"

Mrs. Weasley promptly switched tactics; she smoothed Hermione's hair back for her and softened her voice. "Hermione, please. I'm going to be losing a son in a few weeks--two sons, really--and I'd like to know why. Please?"

Hermione had to hand it to her; Mrs. Weasley was very good at guilt-trips. However, she just looked the woman dead in the eye. "Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said in a low voice. "You know me very well. You probably know me better than my own mother. I think you know that no matter what you say or do, I would never betray Harry's confidence."

"Yes. I do know." Mrs. Weasley took the fistful of knives from Hermione's hand. She suddenly looked decades older. "Why don't you go help Ron and the others in the garden?"

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione apologized. And she really was. No mother should have to endure what Mrs. Weasley was going through.

Mrs. Weasley braved a smile and managed to affectionately pat Hermione's hand. "I know, dear. I know." She dropped the silverware onto the counter with a loud clatter, not caring that several items bounced onto the floor. "Go help Ron, please."

Hermione escaped out into the early morning sunshine. Squinting against the bright light, Hermione managed to make out Bill, Ron, and Ginny near the hedge that marked the edge of their property and headed off towards them. Ginny noticed her first and called a greeting with a merry wave. Ron quickly turned around to see her and gestured for her to join him. "Tonks find you?" he asked immediately.

"Yes, thank you," Hermione said with a small smile despite her irritation with Mrs. Weasley.

Ron however caught the fleeting distress on her face. "What's up? Did Mum get to you already?"

Hermione turned to him in surprise. Ron was good. "How did you--?"

"I knew she would," Ron answered easily. He pointed to Hermione's face. "And you would have that face only after one of those conversations with Mum." He crouched down to search for another gnome. "She's good, isn't she?"

"Very," Hermione confirmed. She folded her arms over her chest and looked back towards the back door. "She's not going to give up, is she?"

"Never," Ron said cheerfully. "That's why she's Mum." He finally found a gnome and held it over his head to inspect the dirt-encrusted creature as if he had never seen one before.

Hermione actually had never seen one close up before so she too stared at the struggling gnome with her usual fascination. "I never thought I'd see you doing chores so early," she commented absently.

Ron pulled a face. "No choice. Mum dragged me out at the crack of dawn. Said I had to make up for being sick yesterday." He raised his voice in hopes of being overheard. "Why we have to degnome the garden when the wedding isn't for another two weeks is beyond me, but what do I know?" He flung his arm back to hurl the gnome he was holding high over the hedge. Bill let out an approving whistle. Ron grinned over at him before resuming the hunt for another potential victim.

Hermione watched him find, unearth, and throw another gnome, carefully memorizing his technique. She of course didn't approve of any sort of cruelty towards magical creatures, but they didn't seem to be hurting the gnomes; they just couldn't have them in the garden for the wedding. Besides, she knew that once the wedding was over, Mr. Weasley would probably kindly let them back in. "Can I try?"

"You want to try?" Ron repeated incredulously. Hermione nodded; it didn't look too difficult. He grinned again, imagining just how entertaining this was going to be. "All right. Go on then." He pointed to a quivering bulge nearby. "There's one right there. Go to it."

She remained still for a few seconds, never taking her eyes off of the gnome. He looked as though he was working his way to the left so Hermione cautiously stepped in that direction. Abruptly, she plunged her hand down to grasp the small, earth-covered creature. She miraculously managed to seize him on the first try and although the gnome promptly bit down on her finger, Hermione held on. Mimicking Ron's technique to a fault, she spun the gnome over and over and over and over again until she felt the time was right and released the gnome.

It didn't even make it over the hedge.

Ron didn't even bother hiding his laughter. Bill and Ginny were a bit more discreet, but they were just as amused. Hermione ignored them as she went to try to find the lost gnome again. However, by the time she had made it over to where he had landed, he was long gone. She let out a sigh and placed her hands on her hips as she looked about for the lost gnome. "That's not funny," she called back to Ron.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "It's not funny. It's pathetic."

"Well, just add gnome-throwing on the list of things that you do better than me," Hermione retorted flatly.

"It's an awfully short list," Ron admitted. As always, the pit of her stomach glowed with the compliment and she smiled in gratitude at him. Ron looked at her for a moment before abruptly making his way towards her. "Come on."

"Where are we--" She broke off as he grabbed her hand to lead her along the edge of the hedge. Why did her heart have to stop every time he touched her? "--going?" she finished lamely.

He pointed towards the nearby woods they were approaching. "Your gnome went that way--we'll be back in a minute," he called to Ginny and Bill. Hermione looked over her shoulder in bewilderment. It was hard to believe that that little gnome had come all that way in such a short period of time. However, she didn't protest and after a few minutes, it was a good thing she hadn't. Ron led her a safe distance away from curious eyes and turned to face her. The stupid garden gnome was the farthest thing from his mind. He just wanted to get some privacy.

"So Tonks told you? You know they got there okay?" he asked needlessly again.

"Yes," she said. She loved that he always thought to ask about her family. Even Harry didn't do that. "She said they're just fine."

"Yeah, I know," He dropped her hand so he could collapse onto the grass and soak in the sunshine. Hermione took a seat next to him although she was already plenty warm thanks to their close proximity. They shared a contented silence before Ron cleared his throat knowingly. "Is that all?"

"Huh?" Hermione asked a bit distractedly. She had been wondering if she had ever counted how many freckles lined Ron's face. She blushed as she realized just how silly of a thought that was. "What did you say?"

"Is that all that happened with your parents?" Ron elaborated. He had lain down on the sweet-smelling grass and closed his eyes, but Hermione still felt as though he could see right through her. "You sounded a bit odd whenever you talked about them in your letters."

"I couldn't really talk about them in my letters," Hermione reminded him. "Even Pig could have been intercepted."

"Yeah, I know," Ron agreed dismissively. "But even at school. Whenever you talked about them last term, you got that funny look in your eye."

"What look?"

Ron opened one eye. "That look you got whenever you'd talk about going to so many ruddy classes third-year."

She braced herself. He knew. Of course he knew she had a secret. This was Ron she was talking to. He always knew. With a deep breath, Hermione shifted her position to face him directly; Ron quickly pushed himself back up to give her his undivided attention. This was it; she was about to confess one of her deepest secrets to Ron, and probably to Ron alone. Maybe Harry would know one day, but if he knew now, he would only blame himself and Harry had enough to worry about. Only Ron could know.

"Remember I told you at end of term that I absolutely had to go home this summer for a few weeks?" Ron nodded vigorously. Hermione ripped out a handful of grass and let the strands cascade slowly through her fingers. "Well, that was because I had to tell them about the war. About Voldemort."

There was a long confused pause. "What?"

Hermione bit her lip and tried again. She should have known it would be difficult to make Ron understand; he always had trouble grasping any sort of duplicitous activities against those you cared about. "I lied to my parents. I didn't tell them anything. I'd never even said Voldemort's name in the house or even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. My parents had no idea about the war or Voldemort or anything we've been up to for the past four years."

It still took Ron several moments to find his voice. "Hermione!"

"I know..."

"How could you?"

She stared at him, hurt. She hadn't expected him to actually yell at her. She thought he'd understand. "I couldn't," Hermione retorted defensively. "If I had told them, I wouldn't be here right now. I'd be off in some Muggle school in a heartbeat. So I waited until I turned seventeen and I was of age so in case they did try to stop me, I could have overridden them." Her voice faltered uncertainly.

Ron frowned. "Overridden them?"

"I would have cut myself off from them," Hermione clarified as she raised her chin in the air. "If necessary. It didn't come to that, obviously, but I had to be prepared for that possibility."

The anger had been slapped out of his face. For someone with such a close-knit family, purposely cutting yourself off from your family was one of the cruelest possible actions; that was why he was so furious at Percy. He couldn't imagine willingly causing such a rift with his family. The memory of Percy storming out on Christmas, leaving behind his crying mum caused his anger to come back in full force. "Well, you should have told them."

"Excuse me?"

"You should've!" Ron repeated firmly. "Dad's always talked about educating Muggles and making them aware of our presence. By keeping them in the dark, you're just making them more likely to hate us. You're always afraid of the things you know nothing about. You just made them more scared."

The almost supercilious tone of his voice that was so like Percy's made Hermione want to throw something straight at his head. The last thing she needed right now was to be lectured from Ron Weasley about what she should have done. "What else was I supposed to do?!" Hermione yelled, becoming honestly upset.

"Told them!"

"Do you really think it's that simple," Hermione informed him sharply as she sat up on her knees to face him. She didn't really want to start a row with him, but being angry with him was loads easier than feeling miserable. Besides, it was pure instinct to fight with him. "Do you think I could have just walked into my house and say, 'hi Mum and Dad, how are you? There's actually this horrible war going on where loads of people want to kill Muggles and Muggle-borns, so basically all of us in the room, so do you mind if I skip staying with you this summer and go back into the hornet's nest? Really? Thanks; hope you aren't killed, bye!?'" Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "Are you insane?"

Sarcasm was Ron's normal weapon of defense but since Hermione had used it so sharply, he opted for another method: changing the subject. "Bloody hell, Hermione, they should know that they're in danger! How can you keep that from them?"

"You don't understand," Hermione explained heatedly. "Your parents understand everything that goes on in the magical world. My parents don't. They just don't understand. How am I supposed to explain this to someone who has no concept of magic?"

"Well, you should have--"

"Maybe I should have done a lot of things," Hermione interrupted hotly. She could feel her cheeks turning pink, but she didn't care. "Maybe I should have told my parents sooner or maybe I should have just never come to Hogwarts in the first place but it doesn't matter--all that matters is what I have done, and I'm sorry, but I can't help thinking I happened to do the right thing. I made sure I could stay at Hogwarts. Stay with Harry and you. Is that so horrible? I want to stay with you. Why is that any different from what you would have done for me?" She defiantly raised her eyebrows, waiting for his answer. No matter what he said, he wasn't going to convince her otherwise. It had been the right thing to do; she'd do it again in a heartbeat and Ron shouldn't be questioning her judgment.

Ron took in her heated words, his ears as pink as her cheeks. It took every bit of self-control he had but Ron managed to swallow all possible retorts to her last statement and tried a half-hearted smile. "Wow. Haven't done that in a while, have we?"

Hermione folded her arms over her chest. "I suppose not," she said mulishly.

Ron leaned forward conspiringly. "Felt good, didn't it?"

Hermione had to turn her sudden laugh into a cough of rage.

Ron glanced towards the house to make sure that they weren't overheard and spoke in a much calmer, quieter voice. "Look, I shouldn't have done that. It's your family; you can decide what to do with them." He took another long breath. "You were right and I was wrong and I'm sorry," he said very carefully, as if he were reciting a passage from a book verbatim.

It took a while for Hermione to respond not because she didn't accept his apology, but because she was trying to remember the last time she had heard Ron openly apologize. His apologies usually weren't so concise and articulate; usually, his ears turned red and he stammered something rather incoherent. Ron had always spoken with his actions, not his words, but Hermione had to admit it was rather nice to him say all of the unspoken things between them aloud. "All right," she finally said.

Ron visibly relaxed, as if he couldn't believe he had pulled this off. "Good." He settled back down onto the grass and added. "And I'm really glad they're okay. Really."

"Thanks," Hermione said carefully. They shared a smile in which Hermione couldn't help but wonder how on earth they had settled a row so peacefully. However, she cut herself off with a sudden gasp of realization. "What are we going to do about you?"

"What d'you mean 'do about me'?" Ron asked with a hint of indignation, his temper already returning in full force. "I'm coming with you!"

"No, no, that's not what I meant," Hermione corrected distractedly. "About you and your family. We have mine straightened out, but once we leave and the Death Eaters realize we're not coming back to school, they'll come after your family! How are we going to protect them?"

"Blimey, you're right," Ron said as he visibly paled. He looked back towards his beloved home. "They can't really all go into hiding like your parents, can they?"

"We'll think of something," Hermione vowed. "We won't leave until we have it sorted out." She got to her feet and dusted off her pants with a determined air. "Let me check my books and I'll see what I can come up with."

"Good luck with that," Ron warned as he remained seated, casting another glance at the house, this time much more apprehensively. "Mum's going to be keeping us busy with this ruddy wedding. We're not going to have a lot of time to work on this kind of stuff."

"Well, it's a good thing I did all that work at home," Hermione said absently.

Ron instantly twisted around to stare at her. "You did stuff already? What'd you do?"

"Just some research," Hermione said evasively. "I'll show you later."

"Research about--" Ron looked hastily all around him before mouthing "--Horcruxes?"

She nodded tightly, but she didn't elaborate any further. She knew it was a bit selfish, but she only had a week here at the Burrow alone with Ron; she didn't want to spend all of that time talking about Horcruxes or Harry. Once Harry arrived, he would of course receive her undivided attention, but until then, Hermione wanted to find some opportunities to actually forget all about the war and just enjoy each other. This could be the only chance she had to be alone with Ron.

"Oh, right," Ron realized with a quiet voice, remembering that Ginny and Bill were just over the hedge. They couldn't really talk out here much longer. "Reckon we should get back." He lowered his voice. "We'll talk later?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed although she knew that she would do everything in her power to avoid that. They would talk, yes, of course, but not about Horcruxes. Not if she had anything to do about it.

**

Hermione managed to keep true to her promise. Mrs. Weasley kept them quite busy with loads of chores, but whenever she and Ron did manage to spend some time alone, she could steer the conversation to more pleasant topics instead of only discussing who had died that day or where the Horcruxes could be. It was a bit difficult since Ron seemed eager to dive into their latest adventure, but Hermione was determined to have at least some pleasant memories to hold on to, and she succeeded. She had even somehow gotten involved in a very childish but extremely enjoyable pillow fight that had left her laughing for hours afterwards. Mrs. Weasley of course had been livid when she had seen the state of Ron's room afterwards, but it was worth it. Hermione smiled when she envisioned the way Ron's hair had stuck up in the back of his head, down feathers nestled in the thick stands of hair. It had definitely been worth it.

Still thinking about that night, Hermione extracted another purse from the box of old handbags she had found up here in the Weasley attic. She set it on the table and closed her eyes in concentration. She couldn't be giggling about Ron as she tried this tricky spell yet again. Hermione expertly flicked her wand, murmuring the incantation, but to her dismay, the purse, just like all the others, squawked as it actually expanded to the size of a baby hippogriff. Hermione reversed the spell and with a bang and puff of smoke, the purse sizzled back to normal. There were very noticeable burns on the delicate fabric so Hermione had to toss the now-ruined purse to the side and return to the box for another. Sixth time's the charm, she thought hopefully as she selected a small beaded bag and set it on the worn table she was using.

This time, when Hermione uttered the spell, a balloon of purple smoke enshrouded the purse, but its appearance didn't alter in the slightest. Scarcely daring to breathe, Hermione hurried to the purse to test it. She plucked up a large dusty candlestick lying on the ground nearby and dropped it experimentally into the purse. Normally, there would be no hope that such an object could fit in such a small bag, but to her delight, the candlestick dropped easily inside. There was a loud thud as though she had just loaded it into a cargo hold. She upturned the bag and the candlestick fell back to its prone position on the floor. Hermione breathed an enormous sigh of relief; she hadn't realized how tricky an Undetectable Extension Charm would be.

Hermione set the beaded bag to the side so she could cross off the second-last item on her list. There was only one thing that remained: pack.

Scarcely able to believe that it was already time, Hermione went to Ron's old toy box, which had become her secret hiding place, to double-check on the Horcrux books she had taken from Dumbledore's office. She flipped through them as though they could suddenly give her more answers, extracting the thick sheets of parchment she had stored inside Secrets of the Darkest Arts. She had spent hours pouring over these books, scribbling down every single word she could find that pertained to Horcruxes. Finding these books had been a massive stroke of luck; it was really lucky that she had thought to Summon those books when she had returned to the tower after Dumbledore's funeral. Now they at least had some idea how to go about destroying the Horcruxes.

But that was only the tip of the iceberg. Hermione shifted past her Horcrux notes to study the lists of possibilities she had created: possible hiding places, possible items Voldemort could have wanted to use, possible magical items that would be potent enough to destroy them, possible sites for them to set up camp, and then the lengthiest list of them all: possible predicaments the three of them could find themselves in and possible means to escape them. Hermione had sat down, closed her eyes, and imagined a horrible situation that the three of them had gotten themselves into. She would then go through all possible courses of action and played them out in her head before selecting the one that would produce the best results and recording it carefully on a long roll of parchment. Hermione then would start all over. The list had grown to be several feet long so Hermione made certain she studied it at least once a day; when the inevitable attack occurred, Hermione couldn't very well ask the Death Eaters to hold up for just one second so she could refer to her list. Hermione tried to think of one more thing she could add to any of these lists, but frankly, she couldn't. She had extended the limits of her mind on this subject. It was now time to refer to her friends and see what they thought. Knowing Harry, he'd find three Horcruxes in one day.

Hermione returned to the final list of things to do before Harry arrived and scanned it one last time to ensure that she hadn't missed anything. She hadn't. This was it. This was all she could have possibly done. Now, all that was left to do was pack up and actually go. Hermione pushed back a chunk of hair and exhaled tiredly. Packing wasn't going to be an easy feat. The really complicated part--expanding the small beaded bag--was over, but actually finding all of the items that they would need would take a great deal of effort. Hermione rummaged through the parchment to extract yet another list that was almost as long as the horrible scenario list. This particular list was divided into categories: things they definitely needed to pack, things they should maybe pack if there was enough room, and finally things that would be nice to have but were not be vital. She looked around for an unobtrusive corner where she could start hiding items to pack, but the attic was still too crammed with boxes to fit much else. Perhaps she could use the boxes, as she had used the toy box to hide her Horcrux notes and books.

Hermione went to the nearest box to examine its contents, but a loud slam stopped her cold. Ducking down low, Hermione whipped her wand threateningly toward the trapdoor. "Hello?" she called.

Another slam was her only response. She crept forward, glancing all around for a sign of danger, but the only thing that she found was that the door, her only way out, had been closed and sealed. Hermione tried to shove it open manually and then with magic, but to no avail. As often was the case with attic trapdoors, it could only be opened from the landing below. She pocketed her wand impatiently, having a vague suspicion what had happened.

"Hey!" Hermione pounded on the trapdoor. "Ron? Ron, are you down there?" She stamped her feet furiously on the floor. "Ron! Let me out! This isn't funny! Ron!"

No answer. Hermione hurried over to the section of the floor that she knew was directly over Ron's bed. Knowing him, he was probably lounging around, reading comic books and laughing about her current predicament. He really could be as mischievous as the twins at times. She jumped up and down so her feet hammered loudly against the hard floor. "Ron!"

A deafening bang caused her to jump out of her skin, but she turned to find that it was only the ghoul, shoving over the massive pile of boxes he had been stacking the first day Hermione had arrived. He then shuffled over to the pipes where he began beating the sides of his hands on the hard metal, producing a series of really annoying echoing clangs. Hermione shot him a smile of gratitude; no one could ignore that racket. She crossed back to the entrance and waited breathlessly.

The ladder abruptly was yanked down. "Bloody hell," Ron roared. "What is going on--Hermione?" His voice sharply changed into a softer, surprised tone as he saw her trainers swing over the side, preparing to descend the ladder. "Wait, hang on, I'm coming up."

Hermione couldn't understand why he needed to, but she stepped off to the side and continued to wait with her hands on her hips. Ron's head soon poked through the opening in the floor. "What are you doing up here?" Ron demanded the second he saw her. He hoisted himself up. "You gave me a heart attack!"

"Oh, really? Because I was having the time of my life up here," Hermione retorted. "Why did you close the door?"

"I didn't! Fleur or Mum must've done it--they're on a cleaning rampage--they had me cleaning up Fred and George's products out of their room; I could hear you all the way down there." He looked around curiously and winced when he saw all of the boxes the ghoul had knocked over. "I hope Mum won't come up here and see this mess--what did you do?"

"I didn't do anything," Hermione echoed. She gave the ghoul, who was slouching behind an old dresser, an appreciative wave. "Your friend gave me a hand."

"Oh." Ron considered cleaning up the mess, but opted to instead plop down on a pile of old dusty cushions and give Hermione a considering look. "I didn't know you still came up here."

"I needed a place to work so no one could bother me," Hermione explained. "I didn't want Ginny accidentally finding my research."

"Or intentionally looking for it," Ron corrected. He knew his sister all too well. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You wanted to help me with research? That would involve reading, Ron."

Ron let out a low grunt of annoyance. "No, why didn't you tell me so I could come here too," he elaborated. "We could finally have a proper conversation. You know, without Mum butting her--" He cut himself off, his face suddenly blank and distant. "Wait."

"What?" Hermione asked warily. Ron didn't answer; he just stared at the crumpled pile of boxes that had just been upturned. "Ron? What is it?" Ron waved a distracted hand at her to silence her so he could figure everything out inside his head before voicing the thoughts aloud. She could only stay quiet for a few more seconds before she had to burst out again. "Ron?"

He shot her a quick smile, suddenly back and alert as ever. "Annoying when someone does that to you, isn't it?" He jumped back to his feet so he could get a better look at the ghoul. "So he helped you?"

"Yes, why--?"

"I got it," Ron said excitedly. "I got it! I'm a genius!"

"And modest--what's going on?" Hermione demanded, but Ron was already disappearing down the ladder. Hermione followed him down the numerous flights of stairs; for a moment, she thought he was going to race all the way to the bottom, but he came to a jerky halt at Fred and George's old room.

"What're you doing here?"

Fred Weasley clasped his heart in feigned agony. "You'd think our youngest, dearest brother would be happy to see us, wouldn't you think, George?"

"You would," George said with a somber shake of the head. He was sorting through a large box that was on his old bed, taking out a few things and setting them off to the side. Fred was over by their closet, throwing assorted items onto a pile on the floor. "I'm afraid we didn't teach him to be as compassionate as we are."

"It's a shame," Fred sighed. "A real shame."

Ron strode into the room, pointing at the box George was unpacking. "What're you doing?" he repeated. "I spent hours packing that up!"

"No, you spent twenty minutes packing it up and the rest of the time you've been deciding which of our things should you nick," George corrected shrewdly. He extracted a very familiar telescope from the box and tossed it over to Ron. "Here, give this a good, hard squeeze, will you?"

Ron remembered all too well what that telescope had done to Hermione's eye last summer and let it drop to the floor. "Hey!" Fred protested. "That's valuable merchandise!" He came forward to retrieve the telescope and examined it. "I think we could make a good profit off of this, don't you, Hermione?"

"Maybe," Hermione said flatly from the doorway, thinking it would be for her own best interest to not come all the way into the room. She was a still bit sore about having to go around with a giant black eye for nearly three weeks.

"What're you doing here?" Ron asked wearily for the third time.

Fred came forward to try to pinch Ron's cheek the way Great-Aunt Muriel always did. "We just missed you, Ronniekins."

"Yeah, right," Ron scoffed. "And I just snogged the giant squid."

"Ronnie," Fred said in a loud undertone, pretending to give Hermione furtive glances. "I don't think you should call her a squid. At least not to her face."

Ron flushed scarlet, but George was already stepping in to calm the rising row. "Mum wrote us and said she was throwing out all our old things if we didn't come claim them by today, so we're taking what we want." With his toe, he pushed out the box Ron had stowed under the bed, full of the items Ron was going to smuggle out. "We're taking all of these back, by the way."

"Why?!" Ron objected. "You don't need them!"

"We can always use old products, Ronald," Fred said very seriously. "We can always study them and learn from our mistakes, isn't that right, Hermione?"

"I suppose," Hermione remarked.

"See? Hermione agrees," Fred said triumphantly.

"And if you want our stuff, you're going to have to pay for them," George put in. "Little brother or not. Everyone pays at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

"Harry doesn't," Ron grumbled.

"Harry is an investor. Investors don't pay," Fred said stoutly. "You give us a thousand Galleons; then you can take that load of stuff for free."

"You didn't make me pay for the Puking Pastilles," Ron reminded them.

"That was different," George disagreed. "That was for a good cause." Fred nodded in staunch agreement. Hermione smiled down at her shoes; she always had liked the twins, even in spite of all of their pranks. "If you need to go rescue Hermione again, we'll give you whatever you want."

"Actually, he just did," Hermione informed them. "He came and got me out of the attic, you know, after you locked me in to get Ron out of your room so you could search your things?"

Ron groaned; he couldn't believe he hadn't caught on before. Fred wagged a finger at her with a begrudging grin. "Pretty and smart. Why'd you ever snog that Lavender girl again?"

"Shut up," Ron said tightly. He turned to appeal to George; it was always easier to get a straight answer out of George. "You shut the door on her?"

"Yeah," George said without a twinge of remorse. "Had to see what you were doing in here, didn't we?"

"Besides," Fred added smugly, "we thought it'd be good for you to rescue a damsel in distress, which, as you know, is one of the twelve fail-safe--"

"Shut up!" Ron bellowed, his ears flaming red. He wouldn't look anywhere near Hermione as he struggled to change the subject. "Look, is Dad back?"

"I dunno; why?"

Ron was too eager to share his plan to stay quiet. "Maybe you know--you know the ghoul upstairs?"

"I am aware of his presence, yes," Fred said serenely.

"Is there a way to make him look like me?" Ron asked.

"I think so," George said with a nod. "You do already resemble a slimy git so it shouldn't be too hard. But why--?"

Ron had already turned to the other twin. "And that Fawcett girl you dated one summer? She got really sick and couldn't go back to school right after she snogged you--what did she have?"

"She got spattergroit," Fred answered. "And the two incidents were unrelated."

"So could we make the ghoul look like me with spattergroit?" Ron pressed on. "So it'll look I'm so sick that I can't go to school and that's why I'm not going to be at Hogwarts?"

Hermione let out a gasp mixed with a smile. Ron was a genius.

The twins also looked marginally impressed with Ron's plan. "You know, Ronnie, that may work." George got up and pulled out his wand. "We could use the same spells we use on the Skiving Snackboxes to make him looks really nasty. And Dad could help; he'll know what the Ministry would be looking for. But d'you reckon Muriel will help?"

"Muriel?" Hermione asked quietly.

"We named him after our great-aunt; it drives her mad," Ron explained distractedly. "And he helped her get out of the attic; why wouldn't help us?"

Fred looked at Hermione in honest surprise. "He helped you?" Hermione nodded in confusion. She couldn't understand why they were all so surprised by that. Ghouls, unlike poltergeists like Peeves, typically were quite harmless. He grinned as he suddenly realized why. "I think you have an admirer, Miss Granger."

Ron's face mashed with repulsion. "I think she'll pass," he answered tightly for Hermione. "But you'll think it'll work? If we make him look like me?"

"I think you've finally had a good idea, Ronnie," Fred confirmed as he too pulled out his wand. He tried to ruffle Ron's hair as he passed, but Ron, who was a good three inches taller than the twins, jerked away just in time. "C'mon, George," he said jovially. "Let's go play with ickle Muriel."

**

"Dad said it was genius too," Ron reported excitedly. He deftly passed a Quaffle back and forth between his hands, too worked up to keep still. "It's going to be tricky, he said, but he reckons he can do if the twins help him. He reckons Muriel's even excited to get out of the attic for a bit."

"I can imagine," Hermione said wryly as she sat on Harry's bed, Crookshanks in her lap. They had managed to sneak up here after dinner for a bit of privacy to discuss the latest plan. "I'd hate to be trapped up there."

Ron rolled his eyes and kicked his legs up so he could toss the Quaffle in the air, nicking the ceiling. "You were up there for ten minutes, Hermione. And just think, if I hadn't come up there, I never would have come up with my brilliant plan."

"I'm so glad my misfortune turned out in your favor," Hermione returned. She continued to pet Crookshanks' long fur as she mulled over the one tiny flaw in Ron's plan; if Fred, George, and Mr. Weasley were going to be up in the attic to transform the ghoul, she would need to move the things she had stowed up there so they wouldn't happen across it by mistake. The twins probably already suspected her of hiding something; they knew she had to have a very good reason for going up there this afternoon. Her eyes wandered around Ron's violently orange room which looked as though Ron had just emptied the contents of his trunk on the floor upon returning home and never thought of cleaning up since. "Your room is a mess," Hermione noticed suddenly.

Ron allowed the Quaffle to fall onto the mattress so he could make a face at her. "When did you turn into Mum?"

"No, no, that's good," Hermione said as she gently shoved Crookshanks off her lap and rose from Harry's camp bed to open the door to his rarely-used closet. As she expected, it was stuffed with discarded clothing, books he hardly touched, action figures, comic books, bits of parchment, and a million other things that couldn't bear to get rid of. It was perfect. "Do you think I could hide some things in here? I can't use the attic anymore since your dad and Fred and George will be up there to work on the ghoul."

"Sure," Ron agreed. She could hear his mattress creak as he swung himself up again. "What'd you have to hide?"

"Things I want to pack," Hermione explained. She was already crossing over to the door so she could pull down the trapdoor to the attic. "Watch to make sure no one closes this, will you?" she called over her shoulder.

She half-expected Ron to close it himself, just to prove how funny he was, but he was only waiting for her on the landing, peering down the stairs to make sure no one interrupted them. She handed down the two items to him so she could safely climb down the ladder. He inspected the beaded purse and the one roll of parchment curiously. "What is this?"

"You'll see," she said mysteriously as she took the purse from him and nodded to the list. "Open it."

Ron untied the parchment and let out a whistle as it unrolled down his long frame and several feet across the floor. "Blimey, Hermione, what is this?"

Hermione had already hidden the beaded bag, which now contained the Horcrux books and notes, in the closet. She'd show those to Ron once Harry got here. "Things I want to pack," Hermione repeated. "Think you can help me find some of those things?"

"Sure." Ron's eyes scanned over the list; it was really long. "Yeah. I reckon so."

"If you find something," Hermione said, nodding to the closet which she had locked with an expert flash of her wand, "just put it in there and tell me as soon as you can so I can cross it off the list."

"I will." Ron sat on his bed to continue to read, pausing every now and then to tell Hermione where she could find the needed items. He stopped after telling her where in the basement his mum stowed extra bottles of Essence of Dittany. "Speaking of Mum," he said slowly, brow furrowed, "how long have we been up here?"

Hermione checked her watch. "Nearly an hour."

"Yeah," Ron said. "When's the last time Mum let us be alone for an hour?"

To prove his point, Ginny suddenly appeared in the doorway, clutching an Extendable Ear, alive with anticipation. "Ron!" she hissed. "Order meeting!"

Ron tossed the list aside and took off after his sister. Hermione was right behind them. "Moody got here a while ago--Mum sent me upstairs straightaway. He seemed really upset about something and asked them to contact everyone for an emergency meeting. They've only just all arrived." Ginny relayed over her shoulder.

They reached the first-floor landing where Ginny knelt down to uncoil the listening device and lower the ear carefully down to the ground floor. "Why don't you just go listen?" Hermione asked Ron in a whisper. "You're of age."

"Because it's not about how old you are," Ron returned. "You have to be officially inducted in the Order to sit in on a meeting."

Hermione bit her lip momentarily as she watched Ginny move the string ever so slightly in order to find the ideal reception. "Don't they know by now to look for those things?"

"Yeah," Ginny confirmed. "But hopefully because it's an emergency meeting, they won't think of it."

"We'll be fine," Ron predicted. He gave Hermione a stern look. "Just don't let your cat eat it again."

"One time, Ron, Crookshanks did that one time--"

Ginny shushed them as Moody's grave voice echoed from the ear she was holding out between the three of them. "--Thicknesse has gone over."

There was a long, aghast silence. Ron nudged Hermione in the ribs. "Pius Thicknesse is Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Hermione answered his unvoiced question. She slid her fingernails anxiously into the worn carpet. "That means Voldemort has control over several more offices now--Magical Law Enforcement expands over several branches, including Magical Transport. And since Harry still has the Trace on him..."

Ron didn't need her to go any further. "Blimey," he moaned under his breath. The Ministry had effectively cut off all major means of transportation to and from Harry's house.

"So what now?" Lupin was asking, as always the voice of reason. "We can't Apparate, Floo, or use Portkey. Ministry cars are out of the question. That leaves flying, yes?"

"We could take a team, like we did a few years ago," Tonks proposed. "If we have all of us go with him--and Hagrid on the motorbike--"

It was Hermione's turn to poke Ron in the ribs. "Dad's had Sirius' motorbike, ever since Sirius died," Ron explained in an undertone. "Sirius left it to Harry, but it hadn't flown it in ages so Dad and Hagrid's been fixing it up. He wants to give it to Harry when the war's over, but they've had to use it a few times--Hagrid's too big for a broom."

Tonks had finished counting all possible Order members that could escort Harry. "That's seven of us," she concluded. "That should be enough, shouldn't it?"

"I'm not so sure," Kingsley disagreed sagely. "We're going to be out in the open and we know that Voldemort is going to throw every possible resource to take Potter."

"Assuming that he knows we're not waiting until the 30th," Mr. Weasley put in. "We've spent a lot of time laying that trail; do we have any indication that he knows it'll be Saturday?"

"He'll have at least a few sentries watching the skies at all times," Moody said, his voice booming with dire certainty. "We're going have a fight whether we like it or not."

There was another heavy silence. Ginny bowed her head for a second while Hermione covertly slipped her hand closer to Ron's; he was already doing the same. "So since we know there'll be a fight, no matter what we do," Lupin said anxiously, "we need to find a way to get Harry here as safely as possible. Seven of us flying around him isn't going to cut it, no matter how skilled of a flier Harry is."

"I have a suggestion."

There was a brief, shocked silence. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny exchanged confused glances with each other as they tried to place the new voice. "You?" Moody growled. "You have a suggestion?"

"Yeah," the new person replied with a hint of defiance in his voice. The quaver in his voice reminded Hermione of Wormtail.

Ron let out a low exhale of realization. "It's Dung," he reported to the others.

"It can't be," Hermione disagreed. "He was sent to Azkaban."

"Well, looks like he got out," Ron shot back. "I didn't know he was still helping the Order--thought he'd still be out stealing Harry's things."

Ginny shushed them so they could hear the rest of Dung's idea. "--so if there were several imposters pretending to be the boy, and we had several pairs, a Potter and an Order guard, all going to different locations--"

"--if we were attacked, they wouldn't know which one was really Potter," Kingsley finished. A trace of excitement started to slip into his voice. "Alastor, it could work, we've already put all of the charms on the decoy safe-houses--we could send each pair to one of them and transport them here."

"It could work," Moody concurred very slowly, still thinking it through. "Having decoys would certainly be the best way to protect Potter. Kingsley, how many of those decoy safe-houses do we have?"

Kingsley, who had been in charge of placing those protective charms, ticked them off on his fingers. "My place, Tonks' parents', Molly's Aunt Muriel's, your place, Alastor, Grimmauld Place, Hestia's, and Remus'."

"That gives us seven locations." Moody paused before giving an approving grunt. "And seven of us. And seven is the most powerful magical number." Ron and Hermione very purposefully avoided eye contact. He jabbed his walking stick down onto the floor so a low thud reverberated throughout the house with a tone of finality. "Let's use it to our advantage."

"That means we need six people to pretend to be Harry," Mr. Weasley reminded them. "And we're out of Order members, I'm afraid. Molly will be holding down operations here, Hestia and Dedalus will be with Harry's family, and Minerva--"

A loud slap of someone clapping someone else on the shoulder cut off the rest of that sentence. "We have our first volunteer right here," Moody proclaimed.

"What?" Dung squeaked. "No--I never said--I don't--I just gave you the idea--and then I'm done--no missions--"

"If you think I want a cowardly twitch like you on this operation, think again," Moody growled. "But we're out of options. And you don't have to do a bloody thing. Just sit on a broom and look like Potter. Even you can handle that."

"It shouldn't be that bad," Tonks put in kindly. "They want Harry alive. They won't try to kill you; they'll just capture you and take you to Voldemort."

"Oh, thank you, Nymphadora," Dung hissed dejectedly. "I feel so much better."

"You should--they'll be trying to kill everyone else," Moody snapped. He let out a sigh. "We still need five more."

"Do I really need to be here?" Mrs. Weasley offered. "I could come along."

"We need you here, Molly," Mr. Weasley said in a very sharp voice, a voice Hermione had never quite heard from him before.

"You're the only one who has any Healing experience," Kingsley added. "We need you here in case any of us make it back injured."

"Oh, yes, of course," Mrs. Weasley said fretfully, thinking about what how horrible it would be to have to tend to her husband or son's injuries. She had had to contend with broken bones and cuts and bruises thanks to her children's love of Quidditch, but nothing terribly serious. This however would be a hippogriff of a different color. "Well, what about Minerva? She may not be able to fly on her own, but she could manage on the back of a broom."

"They're watching her," Moody said, "after she helped the Grangers." Hermione flinched guiltily. "She got out of trouble, but they're hoping if they find her helping us again, they can fire her. We need someone at Hogwarts so she has to lie low until term starts."

"Well, I 'ill be one, for goodness zake," Fleur suddenly informed them in her trademark haughty way. The three huddled around the ear jumped; they hadn't realized Fleur was listening. "I 'ill do it."

Bill sounded quite startled. "Fleur--"

"I know you do not think I am trained e-nuff, Mad-Eye," Fleur interjected self-importantly. "But you 'ere saying zat zese decoys 'ill be safer than ze rest of you so I 'ill be fine, e-specially if you are zere to protect me, Bill." Ron promptly feigned gagging; Hermione poked him the ribs and continued to listen. "'arry saved my zister when 'e did not 'ave to. It iz time that I returned the favor. So now 'e only need four more."

"Well, bloody hell, if she can do that, so can we," Ron muttered to Hermione. As one, they abandoned their posts and bolted down the stairs, Ginny hot on their heels. The three of them charged into the kitchen and screeched to a halt. "Congratulations: you just got two more," Ron announced loudly to the small gathering.

"Three more," Ginny corrected.

"Absolutely not!" Molly Weasley had leapt to her feet and thrust a shaking finger towards the stairs. "Up now! All of you!"

"Seventeen, Mum," Ron said with an apologetic shrug. "I'm seventeen. I can do what I want. So can Hermione."

"We've had this discussion before, young man," Mrs. Weasley reminded him coldly. "As long as you live in this house--"

"The only reason I'm in this house," Ron shot back, "is because you dragged me here! I wanted to go with Harry!"

"That's not the point--!"

Ron ignored his mother and appealed to the other Order members, raising his voice to overpower the rest of his mother's protests. "Look, you need people, don't you? Who better to pretend to be Harry than me and Hermione?"

"Or his girlfriend?" Ginny put in. She winced and corrected herself. "Sorry, ex-girlfriend."

Those who were unaware of Ginny and Harry's situation gaped in curious surprise. Mrs. Weasley turned her mighty glare to her daughter. "Ginny, upstairs."

"I am not--!"

"Ginerva Molly, you are fifteen years old--"

"I'll be sixteen in twenty-two days!"

"If you're still counting the days until your birthday, you are not old enough for this--go!"

"Ginerva," Mr. Weasley interjected swiftly, the final voice of authority. "Your mother is right. Go upstairs and give me that Extendable Ear you have behind your back."

Furiously, Ginny flung the Ear as hard as she could; with her Chaser skills, it bounced off the wall with surprising strength and ricocheted around the room, causing almost everyone to duck. "Ginny!" But Ginny had already stormed upstairs and slammed the door. Hermione had a feeling that she may not be allowed back in for a good long time.

Ron was the only one appeared to be completely unperturbed by Ginny's display of temper. He had actually seen worse. He squared his shoulder so he looked as tall as Bill and waited hopefully. "Well?"

Moody lumbered to his feet to size up the two young adults before him. "You understand what you'll be getting yourself into?"

"I think we have a vague idea," Ron answered dryly. "Being best friends with Harry and all."

It was the only time Hermione had ever seen Moody laugh. He banged his walking stick on to the floor in approval. "All right. If you'd like to help, we'd be glad to have you."

"We'd like to help," Ron answered swiftly. Mrs. Weasley let out a squashed sob, but didn't say another word. She knew it would be useless now.

"Hermione," Mr. Weasley added, taking in the perturbed girl who was standing behind his youngest son. "You've been awfully quiet. Are you sure you want to do this?"

Ron wheeled around, suddenly horror-stricken. He had just assumed that Hermione would demand on coming along; he hadn't meant to unwillingly volunteer her for a possibly fatal mission. Hermione however wasn't concerned about that in the slightest. She turned to appeal to the adult in the room who knew Harry best. "I was just thinking that Harry really isn't going to like this. Us pretending to be him."

Lupin nodded sympathetically. He too didn't like to force Harry to do things he really didn't want to do. "I know," he agreed. "But I'm afraid Harry's not going to have a choice in the matter. This is the best way to get him to safety. Unless you have another suggestion?"

Hermione's eyes flickered over to Mundungus who was slouching in his chair, looking terrified to be alive. It was rather amazing that he had managed to concoct such a brilliant plan. "No. I don't."

Ron turned his back on everyone else to give the illusion that he and Hermione were alone. "D'you want to do it?" he asked under his breath. "You could stay here and help Mum."

"No, no, I'll do it," Hermione answered immediately, raising her voice so everyone would hear her oral confirmation. "Of course I'll do it. Harry would do it for me."

"Good. Thank you, you two," Lupin said gravely. He passed a hand through his rapidly thinning hair. The stress of the war was literally causing him to tear his hair out. "Now we only need two."

"Molly, what about Fred and George," Tonks suggested timidly, afraid what would happen if suggested using more of Mrs. Weasley's beloved children. Molly's wrath had always terrified her, especially after she had tripped and almost crashed into the Weasley family clock. "They've been offering to help for months, but we just haven't had anything for them. I'm sure they would say yes."

It took Mrs. Weasley a long time to answer, but she finally agreed in a tight voice. "Yes, all right. They would like to help."

"I'll Apparate over there right now," Tonks offered.

Lupin rose along with his new wife. "I'll join you." Clearly, he didn't want Tonks going to Diagon Alley by herself so late at night. He paused to appeal to Moody, their de facto leader now that Dumbledore was gone. "Unless we need to discuss anything else?"

Moody shook his weathered head. "No. We'll go over the details later. I think we should let Molly and Arthur get to bed."

Surprised at Moody's sudden consideration, Molly swabbed at her eyes and rose to escort them out to the Apparition point. Lupin and Tonks went first so they could get to Diagon Alley. Moody and Kingsley hung back, muttering in low anxious tones. Hermione noticed that Moody's magical eye kept swinging toward Mundungus, who was standing off by himself, waiting for his turn to leave with a decidedly shifty air. Mr. Weasley was also eying him as he slowly poured himself some more tea and took a long thoughtful sip. Bill had taken Fleur by the hand and pulled her down into the empty chair nearest him so he could speak to her in a very quiet voice. Fleur smiled gently and ran a loving hand along the curves of his face, not even flinching as her perfect porcelain fingers crossed over the many scars cutting his cheeks. Hermione watched them surreptitiously. As much as she and Ginny may not want to admit it, Fleur really did love Bill.

Another Weasley was now taking her by the hand. "Come on," Ron hissed, desperate to get away before his mother could return and yell at him for several hours for disrupting an Order meeting. Hermione followed him up to his room. He closed the door behind them. "Well," he said. "Didn't expect that to happen."

"I know," Hermione said fretfully as she returned to her perch on Harry's bed. Ron splayed out on his. She never expected to be allowed to take part of an intricate Order plan to save Harry Potter. It showed just how desperate times were coming; they were now turning to anyone they possibly could for aid.

Ron picked up the Quaffle again but he didn't toss it in the air as he normally did. That game suddenly seemed very trivial. "He's really not going to like this plan, is he?"

"He's going to hate the plan," Hermione corrected. "He doesn't even want to let us go with him to find the--" She glanced around anxiously. "Things," she opted to say instead of the taboo word 'Horcrux'.

"Oh, I know," Ron said. "You know the second he gets here, he's going to be trying to get us to go back to school."

"I know," Hermione shook her head, trying to imagine walking down the corridors of Hogwarts without Harry with them. The image made her sick to her stomach. "I can't believe he'd think we'd just abandon him. After all he's done for us," she said stoutly. No matter what Harry did or say, she and Ron would be sticking right there with him.

"Yeah. I know." Ron rolled his head over to watch her for a moment, an indescribable expression flickering in and out of his eyes. "You going to be okay? Flying and all?"

"You know I can fly," Hermione said with a great deal more confidence than she actually felt. Yes, she could fly when it was just her and Ron on the pitch, but she wasn't certain how well she would fare thousands of feet from the earth with Death Eaters hot on her trail. "And besides, I won't really be flying. My Order guard will. I just have to hold on and not look down."

"We can practice, you know," Ron offered. He sat up on his bed and nodded his eyes towards the window. "We could go flying right now if you want."

Flying in the moonlight with Ron was an incredibly tempting proposition. However, Hermione knew very well that the romantic moment could very possibly be cut short by a Death Eater or an irate Mrs. Weasley scolding them so she reluctantly shook her head. "I'll be fine."

"You sure?" Ron pressed, his voice suddenly dry. It was very clear from the look on his face that the last thing on his mind was preparing her for an Order mission.

And suddenly, Harry and the Order were also the farthest things from Hermione's mind. There were only his earnest eyes. She came very close to giving in; she actually opened her mouth to breathe her assent so she could not only have the wind whipping through her hair and her legs kicking free in the thin air, but also learn what it would be like to have her arms wrapped around Ron's back and his warm, solid presence sinking through every pore of her skin. This was probably her only chance to have such a perfect experience with Ron; she had promised herself that she would take every opportunity she had with Ron. She shouldn't pass this up.

But partly because of logic, and admittedly, partly because of nerves, Hermione lowered her eyes and nodded. "I'm sure."

"Okay," Ron said after a disappointed pause. There was another long silence. "Let me know if you change your mind," Ron finally added.

It took all of her willpower, but Hermione kept her eyes far away from him. If she looked at him, she'd give in. "I will," she promised.

"Ronald Weasley!"

Ron winced. "Son of a bitch," he swore as he stood up. "Here it comes."

Hermione jumped to her feet as well, almost knocking over a load of books on his nightstand. For some reason, she was particularly antsy. "I should go see Ginny anyway."

"Okay," Ron said, perplexed by her odd behavior. He rubbed the back of his neck to hide his red-tipped ears. "Well. Good night then."

"Good night." Ron left the bedroom first, giving Hermione a minute to bury her face in her hands and curse herself for being so stupid. It was ridiculous how after so many years, she could still act like such an idiot in front of Ron. He was her best friend; she should be able to have a normal conversation with him without blushing or knocking things over. And Merlin's pants, she should have said yes. She should have said the hell with the rules and just gone out in the moonlight with Ron. That's all she had ever wanted to do, but her bloody nerves had gotten the best of her and now it was too late. She couldn't very well interrupt Mrs. Weasley's shouting to request that she allow her son to sweep Hermione off of her feet. And Harry would be here the day after tomorrow; the Horcrux hunt would begin and the Ron-Hermione situation would officially be abandoned in order to focus on their mission. And since it was very possible that she wouldn't survive this mission, she could very well die without knowing what it was like to fly in the arms of Ron Weasley.

Hermione lowered her hands and left the messy bedroom so she could splash some water on her face to calm herself. She shouldn't think like this. Negative thoughts would only hinder their cause. She had to have something to hope for. It was the only way she was going to get through this. She had to have something to fight for and that something was a future with Ron.

Australia, Hermione reminded herself abruptly. Once she and Ron were in Australia, they could have as many rides in the moonlight as they wanted. She just had to wait a little bit longer until they made it to Australia. Hermione closed her eyes so she could breathe in that glorious vision. A smile crossed her face and her hopes soared to insurmountable heights.

One day, Ron, she swore to him. One day, we'll fly in Australia.