Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

Praying for the wave to come now

It must be for the fifteenth time

I've been here much too long

This is the past that's mine

I want to fly and run till it hurts

Sleep for a while and speak no words

In Australia...

**

"I'll be right back," Hermione called as she left the tent and closed the flap with a definitive yank before Harry or Ron could offer to go with her. Hermione pulled her jacket more securely around her and kicked aside the heaps of dead leaves as she tried to determine what day it was. They had been out in the wilderness for so long that Hermione had actually lost track. She had no idea if it was a Monday or Saturday or even what month it was. She could only tell that the days were getting shorter, the nights were longer, and the air was much, much colder. She was going to have to brush up on the few spells she had learned to help them keep warm. The tent of course would be heated magically, but they could freeze to death hunting for food. And then there was the awful fact that their food supplies would be noticeably diminished with the change in season. It was going to be a long, hard winter with no hope of gathering around the Weasley Christmas tree.

Hugging herself to ward off the chill, Hermione found a large dead oak that looked promising and sat down at the base of the tree. She always liked to find trees or landmarks that reminded her of Hogwarts; this certain tree had a slight resemblance to the tree next to the lake that she, Harry, and Ron had spent many hours underneath, discussing Voldemort, homework, or whatever the current crises was in their lives. She curled up against the trunk and closed her eyes so she could escape from the strangling locket around her neck.

It was remarkable how the three of them could have such different reactions to the Horcrux. Ron lashed out at everyone and everything, spitting out every horrible thought that passed through his mind. She hadn't realized this before, but Ron actually did have a filter; he really didn't say everything that popped into his thick head. Ron really had scores of negative, self-deprecating, jealous thoughts that invaded him every single day and now this Horcrux was causing them to attack him with even more violent intensity. It was funny how close she could feel to Ron at times and yet, when he wore the Horcrux, he became a stranger.

Harry was obviously similar afflicted by the locket, but instead of taking it out on them, he turned outward, hating Voldemort with a darker fury and becoming more and more desperate to discover just what to do next. He however was intent on this dream of the blonde thief instead of focusing his attentions on the Horcruxes, which was frustrating Hermione and Ron to no end. They had absolutely no way to destroy the locket and the snake, no place to search for the Cup, and not even the foggiest clue what that last Horcrux was. The Horcruxes were the only way to end all of this; she was certain of it. How could they be expected to save the world if their chosen leader elected to spend his days musing about some ghostly figure they could never be expected to find.

And then there was her unique reaction to this awful necklace. Hermione opened her eyes so she could remove the locket from underneath her layers of clothing and gaze at it, feeling the sickening heartbeat against the pads of her fingertips. She wished with all of her heart that she could be staring at her other locket, the one her parents had given her. This locket made her sick.

You don't deserve me...you don't deserve any of this...any of them...

Hermione instantly dropped the locket as if it had scalded her and covered her face in her hands. This is what the locket did to her: it turned her thoughts inward so she was forced to examine every little thing about herself that she didn't like until she was so riddled with self-doubt that she could hardly see straight. Most days she could keep control, only becoming slightly more terse and testy than normal, but no more so than she was while studying for O.W.L.s or any other strenuous exam. But some days, like today, those thoughts overwhelmed her as strongly as they afflicted Ron, so strongly that in some instances, she could almost hear the locket talking to her, taunting her, reminding her how weak she was--

Useless...

Hermione shuddered. That had to be the most horrible word in the English language. She certainly felt useless right now. She tried every single day to think of something, anything, that could lead them to a Horcrux. She and Harry talked about for hours on end; they talked about it so much that Ron had even stopped discussing it with them and would just sulk off to the side, giving her and Harry shifty looks that she couldn't quite understand. Another shiver ripped through her. She couldn't even read Ron anymore. That was the one thing she could do better than anyone; she understood that boy like no other. But not anymore. She had failed him. And now Ron was trapped in whatever dark, sinister place he was currently lost in and she couldn't get him out of it. She had failed. She was a failure.

NO. Hermione flinched in hopes that the physical movement would jar her thoughts back to normal. This wasn't her. This was some dark force playing sick games with her mind. It was dark magic at his strongest, but it could be fought. It had to be fought. She had not come this far only to be taken out by a piece of jewelry. The Horcrux flared up with sudden scorching heat, almost burning Hermione's skin. She swallowed hard. This wasn't just some piece of jewelry she was fighting against.

Useless...

"I am not useless," Hermione whispered determinedly. She had always told Harry that even in the wizarding world, it was never a good thing to hear voices. Now, here she was, talking to a locket. A lot of things had changed since their biggest concern had been the Chamber of Secrets.

Useless Mudblood...

Hermione returned her face to her hands so she could focus on replaying the events of the day. Usually, when the Horcrux was this powerful, she could trace it back to some event that had happened during the day which left her more vulnerable and exposed than usual. Usually, it was a particularly nasty row with Ron, but Ron hadn't even worn the Horcrux today; his turn began at midnight tonight. In fact, Ron hadn't even spoken to her today. Hermione had to swallow hard. Perhaps that was the reason she was particularly susceptible today.

Useless Mudblood, go back to your books...

"Stop!" Hermione couldn't take it anymore and furiously unclasped the locket from around her neck. She collapsed against the tree, gasping for air, almost crushing the necklace in her trembling fist. It was the ultimate sign of weakness--to take off the Horcrux before her shift had ended--but she just couldn't bear it. Hermione swabbed at her eyes. "Useless," she whispered to herself. This time it wasn't the Horcrux talking.

Shakily, Hermione got to her feet so she could start the search for food, as she had told Ron and Harry she was leaving to do. They'd probably worry if she didn't come back soon. After a second's hesitation, Hermione stuck the Horcrux in her pocket. She'd put it back on before she returned to the tent. She pressed a hand over her heart so she could feel her heartbeat return to normal. Ever since Ron had pointed out the locket's internal heartbeat, she had noticed that whenever she wore it, her heart sped up to match the Horcrux's, which obviously increased her anxiety and stress levels. It was no wonder that the three of them could hardly keep it together. They were lucky that one of them hadn't really lost control yet. She really couldn't understand why Harry wouldn't allow them to just carry the Horcrux. She understood that it would be much safer if they actually wore it, but it was just such a high cost to their morale. The locket may be more vulnerable to attack if it was in the beaded bag, but they would be better equipped to protect it if they weren't sniping at each other all the time. She loved Harry dearly, but she was really starting to wonder if he knew what he was doing. She had always assumed that he did, but now--

Hermione swept her hair back and crouched down at some bushes to search for berries or mushrooms or something edible. That really wasn't fair. She shouldn't just expect Harry to lead the way for them and blindly follow. Harry wasn't some secret source of information that would somehow magically save them all. She and Ron knew everything Harry knew; if they couldn't think of something, why should Harry? It wasn't Harry's fault that they were stuck in limbo, unable to move or act. All three of them should be able to find a way together. It wasn't fair to rely solely on Harry to save them.

Besides, Harry wasn't to blame for their predicament. It was the Horcrux, Hermione was certain of it. That was the only explanation for the unbelievable disintegration of the trio's rock-solid friendship which in turn was leading to their inability to solve their latest mystery. She and Harry were fairly stable, only sniping at each other every now and then when the Horcrux became particularly unbearable, but Ron--Ron had vanished. He was a stranger. The Horcrux wasn't just affecting him while he wore it; it continued to prey on his every thought long hours after he had removed it from his skin. She hardly recognized the sneering, snarling man who loafed around on his bunk, doing absolutely nothing besides repeatedly point out Harry's and her many mistakes. He distanced himself from her and Harry more and more with each passing day. She couldn't remember the last time she and Ron had had a normal conversation; all he talked about now was the lack of food, how worried he was about his family, or why didn't Harry know what to do. Now that she thought about, Hermione couldn't remember the last time he had even taken her hand or offered to help her with her books or the other thousands things he always had done for her. They were no longer Ron and Hermione, the best friends who had always teetered on the edge of something more. They were just two people who happened to get mixed up in the same sticky mess.

Hermione had always known, if Ron was gone, she and Harry were pretty worthless, and this whole mess just proved her point. They were always at their strongest when all three of them stood together, united forever. Hermione honestly believed that was the main reason they hadn't made any progress on the Horcrux hunt. The only way they were going to accomplish their task was to work together. Not even the Boy-Who-Lived could do this on his own. They had to work together. But that didn't seem possible anymore.

Hermione broke off as felt her hands start to shake with a very familiar tremor. She was so tired. She tried so hard to make sure neither Harry nor Ron realized how tired she was, but that in turn, made her even more exhausted. She pressed a hand against her forehead to try to will herself to stop trembling; she knew these symptoms all too well. She had had to deal with bouts of stress-related exhaustion before, thanks to the Time-Turner-induced madness of third-year, but that had been different. Aside from the few weeks that she and Ron weren't speaking, she had had two very stable, supportive friends by her side to help her. But now, Harry was barely hanging on as it was with his repeated scar-episodes, and as long as Ron was around that Horcrux, his true self was gone, replaced by this surly alter-ego that Hermione had grown to dread and pity at the same time.

As if to prove her point, a shuffle of leaves alerted her attention that someone was approaching. Her wand was out in a heartbeat, but quickly lowered when she saw him. "Hey, there you are," Ron greeted as he continued to come closer. "Where've you been?"

Hermione held up the basket invitingly. Sometimes, if she smiled in just the right way, Ron came out of the spell he was under for a few moments. "Looking for food, of course. I think I found some more of those mushrooms you like."

"I don't like any of your mushrooms," Ron denied. He nevertheless came forward to inspect her findings. He indicated the fungi with a disgusted finger. "And those are all over the place right by the tent--why did you come all the way out here? You've been gone for ages."

Hermione stared down at the meager supply of fungus. This really wasn't the time for Ron to become particularly observant about mushrooms. "Oh. Well, I was looking for something else so we had more options, but I couldn't find any and I was already here so I thought I'd just take these." Hermione lowered the basket and started back towards the tent in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner. "Was I really gone that long?"

"Over an hour," Ron reported. With his mile-long stride, he managed to cut in front of her in less than five seconds so he could look deep into her face. Hermione bit the inside of her lip and stared back unflinchingly, still sensing the tearstains streaking down her cheeks. He could sense every troubled thought inside her head, she was certain of it. He always knew whenever she was particularly upset. And now he was going to make her talk about it and try to comfort her as he always did. He wouldn't succeed--not with that Horcrux around her neck--but she loved him for trying. And just the attempt to do everything in his power to help her would maybe be enough to lift a little of the gloom threatening to overwhelm them all.

But Ron Weasley always had a knack for surprising her and today was no exception. He looked deep into her face, read her troubled mind, and promptly jerked his head back towards the tent. "Harry got some fish. Wants you to try to help him with it."

"Oh." That was why he had come out to search for her. So she could cook for him. Again. Never mind that he try to make dinner on his own. If he expected her to slave in the kitchen for him when they got married, he had another thing--Hermione silenced the rest of that thought, not because the idea of marriage terrified her. It was because now she honestly didn't think it would ever come true. Not anymore.

Ron was already turning his back on her to return to their shabby home. He wasn't even going to wait to walk back with her. Hermione waited until he was a safe distance away before covertly removing the Horcrux from her pocket and reattaching it around her neck. Her skin shuddered as it came in contact with her skin.

Useless...

Hermione swallowed hard and didn't deny it. I know.

**

Harry stooped over so he could take a look at her book. "Huh. So that's what Hogwarts: A History looks like."

Hermione kicked at him jokingly, but with a laugh, Harry deftly avoided it. "I'm trying to see if there's anything about an artifact of Rowena Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Or if there's any reference to a place where Vol--"

"Don't say his name!"

"--where You-Know-Who could have hid a Horcrux," Hermione corrected with a roll of her eyes. Ron was in a particularly hostile mood today so she had decided to avoid him at all costs.

Harry fell into the chair across from her, pleasantly surprised. "I thought you didn't think one could be hidden there."

"I don't," Hermione agreed. "But you do, so it wouldn't hurt to take a look."

"Thanks." Harry leaned forward eagerly to try to read the pages upside-down. "Find anything?"

"Not yet," Hermione kneeled on the chair so she could push the book towards him so they both could read. Harry scooted his seat closer to take a look. "Every possible room that I could think of is documented in this book; I don't think he would have risked hiding it in such an accessible place, especially with students always running around. It was too risky."

"What about the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked as he flipped through the pages in hopes of finding anything that would help them. "He would think he's the only one who could get in there."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think so. The diary was specifically designed to be used to reopen the Chamber of Secrets. Ginny had to bring the diary to the Chamber in order to complete Riddle's transformation process. That means that two Horcruxes would be in the same place at the same time--"

"--and he couldn't have that," Harry finished for her. "You're right." He continued to page through the book in a fruitless search for a page that proclaimed 'the Horcrux is hidden right here.' "I just really think he would have hidden one there. I can't explain it--I just feel it, you know? It was the first home he'd ever had--he'd have to hide one there."

He looked at Hermione beseechingly and at this moment, he actually looked eerily like Tom Riddle himself. Ginny had once confessed to Hermione that one of the reasons she became so drawn to the possessed diary was that Tom reminded her so much of Harry; Hermione often wondered if Harry realized that although he and Voldemort were mortal enemies, in other ways, they were really almost exactly the same.

Although she had vowed to avoid him for the entire day, that worrisome thought made Hermione glance over at Ron who was sprawled out on his bunk, watching them with narrowed eyes. After Harry had expressed his belief that a Horcrux was at Hogwarts, Ron had once snapped that maybe Harry was talking about himself rather than Voldemort. She didn't want Ron making such a comment again; Harry had enough going on with his constant scar twinges. He didn't need to be openly reminded by his best friend that there was a rather frightening similarity between him and his parents' murderer.

But Ron remained sullenly silent as he continued to watch his best friends, hardly blinking. Hermione returned her attention to Harry. "I know," she said sympathetically. "But I honestly can't think of a place he'd hide it in Hogwarts and it's just not safe to go there right now, especially if we're just going to be running around the castle without a plan."

"Yeah, I know that too," Harry agreed wearily. He took off his glasses so he could rub his eyes with the heels of his hands. He stuck his glasses back on his face to give Hermione a smile. "I can't believe you finally got me to read Hogwarts: A History."

She swatted him in the arm. "Told you it would be useful."

"That was hardly useful," Harry disagreed. All the same, he patted her arm in appreciation to indicate his gratitude.

Bolstered by the rare display of affection, Hermione took her chances and looked over her shoulder to give Ron one of her best smiles. "Now if I could only get this one here to read it."

Harry laughed. "Never going to happen, right, mate--"

The rest of that question died on his lips as the tent flap swished angrily closed, signaling Ron's hasty departure. Hermione covered her trembling lip with her hand and took a long deep breath to steady herself. Ron's mood swings were really starting to frighten her.

"He has the locket on," Harry comforted awkwardly although he too looked equally distraught by Ron's behavior. "It's my turn in a few hours; he'll be fine after then."

"I'm not so sure," Hermione admitted quietly. She actually was starting to think that Ron may never be fine again.

Harry considered following his best friend for a moment before turning to appeal to the girl who knew him best. "What if we cut down on his shifts? I don't mind wearing it longer--"

"Why? Do you like wearing it?" Hermione demanded sharply.

"No," Harry reassured. "No, I hate it. I just would do it if it helped him."

Hermione gave him a kindly smile. She really didn't deserve a friend like Harry. And Ron certainly didn't with the way he was currently acting. She shook her head. "That would only make it worse. He'd think that we didn't think he could handle it and we feel sorry for him. Whatever we do, we can't have him think he's a charity case."

Harry's brow crinkled with bewilderment. "Why would we think that?"

"Because--he's--never mind," Hermione waved her hand distractedly at him. It would take too much time to explain to Harry the inner-most workings of Ron's mind. "We just have to be careful, that's all."

"All right," Harry said skeptically, uncertain if this was the best way to proceed but unable to think of any other course of action. He wasn't able to think of the proper course of actions for several other things as well. He removed his glasses again so he could rub his tired eyes, pale and anxious from the long hours he had spent getting absolutely nothing accomplished.

"Harry, who don't you lie down?" Hermione suggested quietly. Harry had another scar-episode a few hours ago and after such an attack, Harry usually had a nasty headache that lasted for several hours afterwards. The only way to make it go away was to get some much-needed sleep.

Normally, Harry would have scoffed and said he was fine, but today he nodded and fell into his bunk with relief. He was unconscious within seconds. Hopefully, no more visions would interrupt his much-needed sleep. Hermione tiptoed out of the tent so she could find Ron and warn him not to disturb Harry.

However, as usual, one little request ended up instigating a huge blazing mess and things got vicious fast--really fast, even for Ron and Hermione's standards:

"Why is he sleeping anyway!? It's the middle of the day! When I try to sleep--"

"His scar hurt him earlier, Ron! You know how awful he feels after that!"

"I thought you didn't want him seeing You-Know-Who with his scar!"

"I don't--but he can't stop himself, I'm not going to be angry at him for that!"

Ron rolled his eyes violently. "But if I do the slightest thing--"

"The slightest thing?!" Hermione repeated in hot disbelief. "Ron, you haven't done anything! You've been sulking around, not being any help to me at Harry at all!"

"I've done things!"

Hermione didn't even bother listing all of the very specific examples she had proving how false that statement was. "You know, Ron, I knew you were a lot of things, but I never thought that you were absolutely useless until now!"

She wasn't quite sure what spurned her to use that word; perhaps her Horcrux demons still had an effect on her too. Ron's face dropped, but his face remained as harsh as ever. "Oh, you really think that about me, do you?"

She shrugged mercilessly. "After what you did to me last year, I can think a lot of things about you."

Ron could only stare at her with a slightly agape jaw, hurt beyond all comprehension that she would use Lavender against him like that. But he wouldn't surrender. He never would. "I'm useless!" he shot at her. "Whose fault is it that my arm's all lopsided? Whose idea was to Apparate around and live in a tent like cave-wizards? Who's the reason that we're stuck out here in the first place--oh, right, that would be you!"

He might as well just have cut out her heart and fed it to savage trolls. It would have been a lot less painful. Hermione tried to work her mouth so she could defend herself, but she had absolutely no voice. This was beyond cruel. He knew what she thought about herself, he knew all of her secret thoughts because he was her best friend and she had deemed him worthy of her heart. He shouldn't be abusing that privilege like this.

That would have been quite enough to devastate her for a lifetime, but Ron was on fire. He backed away from her as if he were to pace off into the forest. "You know what?" he said nastily. "Why don't you go read a book--that's all you've ever been good for anyway!"

She gasped as though he had slapped her. How dare he. Ron knew--he knew how sensitive she was about that topic, how awful she felt about her 'E' in Defense, and how useless she felt at times whenever they were battling Death Eaters. Her greatest fear had changed from third-year, she knew that now; now it was the horrifying thought that all she would ever be was an intellectual. She was smart--Good God, she was smart--but that hardly mattered when you were trying to save the world. Brains were useful, of course, but as she had said in first-year, there were more important things, such as friendship and bravery. She had failed in those areas two years ago when she had been felled by Dolohov's curse at the Department of Mysteries, a year ago when she had wasted precious time watching Snape's office the night Dumbledore died, and for the past five months when she had trusted Snape over her best friends. She couldn't count all of the times Harry had to pull her out of the way of an impending curse or Ron yanked a Death Eater away from her or Ron had to hold her as she cried and completely fell apart, becoming utterly useless to the people she cared about the most--

It was a horrible fear. It made her sick to even think about it, but Hermione couldn't help it, because those thoughts were always there, lurking in the deepest corners of her mind. There was no escaping it. And Ron knew that. He gave her a smug raise of the eyebrows, proud of the fact that he had shut her up. He looked just like a Malfoy.

That was the final clue she needed. With narrowed, suspicious eyes, she held out her hand. "Give it to me."

Ron opted to play dumb. "What?" he asked with harsh innocence that Hermione saw through in a second. Actually, Crabbe and Goyle would have been able to see through him in an instant, but that was beside the point.

Hermione twitched her fingers sternly at him. "Give me the locket. You've worn it long enough." She no longer cared about damaging his pride; their entire survival hinged on protecting Ron from the Horcrux.

"No," Ron refused, clamping a hand over the Horcrux. "I just got it. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine and you're certainly not acting fine," she said bluntly. They were past the point of coddling each other. "Give it to me!" Her wand was out before Ron could even lay a finger on his. "Give it to me or I'll take it from you."

Ron stupidly still went for his wand and Hermione knocked him down with a quick Impediment Curse. Ron let out a shout as he fell and struggled to shake off the spell, but Hermione's work was just too strong. She freed him from the locket with the greatest of ease and had even taken the time to poke her head back in the tent to make sure they hadn't woken Harry up before Ron got back to his feet. Luckily, he was still sound asleep.

"Precious Harry still napping?" Ron sneered as he searched for the wand he had lost. Hermione twitched hers to halt his efforts so he would listen to her.

"I want you to sit here for five minutes. Just five minutes, and think about what you're doing to us," Hermione ordered him. "I'm going to find us some wood. I'll be back here in five minutes and hopefully you'll be a human being again so we can talk. So sit there for five minutes. I'll be back in five minutes."

"How long will you be gone," Ron muttered sarcastically as Hermione turned her back on him. Hermione considered whirling back around to find a very large object to throw at her head, but she forced herself to keep walking, all the while telling herself, it's just the locket, just the locket, just the locket...

Hermione made it to the tree she had discovered yesterday and collapsed under it again, the Horcrux bunched up in her hand. She squished up her face to keep from crying again. She cried far too much as it was; the locket made her feel awful enough, she didn't need Ron making matters worse by saying horrendously cruel things to her. Her other hand went to her heart which, sure enough, was aching again with Dolohov's special injury. If Ron could say something like that to her--something that spot on--something that vindictive--then it was only a matter of time. A dull throb of foreboding drummed away in her stomach. They were falling apart--the trio was falling apart--and not just the trio--she and Ron were crumbling, right before her very eyes, and she couldn't do a thing to stop it--not while they still had this stupid locket in their possession.

She returned in six minutes, having taken one minute to get a hold of herself. Ron was seated right at the perimeter of her safety charms with his head bowed and wand in his lap. He had wanted to follow her, but knew that they couldn't leave Harry alone in the tent while he was asleep and defenseless. Hermione stopped a few feet away with him, poised to do battle if necessary. She didn't even look at him. It was up to him to fix this.

"You cursed me," he finally said.

"You deserved it," Hermione returned harshly.

"I know," Ron admitted contritely. Hermione turned to face him, her eyes alive with new hope. This sounded a lot more like the Ron she loved. He was leaning forward, gripping a fistful of hair, and hating himself with all of his might. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

There he was. She hadn't seen him in ages. Hermione quickly fell on her knees beside him so she could give Ron her undivided attention. She smoothed back his hair the way she had the night he had been Splinched. Ron closed his eyes to enjoy it. "It's the locket, Ron," Hermione told him gently. "It affects all of us--"

"Not like me," Ron disagreed, feeling as though he could tell her anything as long as she kept on doing that. "You and Harry don't do what I do."

"We're all affected differently, Ron, but believe me, we're all affected," Hermione comforted. She hesitated before continuing, "Why do you think I came out by myself yesterday?"

Ron immediately opened his eyes and pulled his head away so he could take her in. "What does it do to you?" he asked, surprised and concerned. He, who noticed every single thing about this girl, had completely missed that she often came out to the woods by herself to fight off the strongest Dark magic there was.

"Same thing as you," Hermione admitted. "All sorts of bad thoughts." She bit her lip and started shifting her fingers through the thick layer of leaves, really not wanting to go any further. It was painful enough to experience those dark clouds of self-doubt; reciting them to Ron would only make it worse.

She could feel Ron's sharp eyes burning into her cheek, but she kept her eyes on the ground, fighting the inexplicable urge to cry. All she had wanted was for Ron to return to normal and now here he was, quietly sitting beside her, his Weasley fire burning out all of his pores, and all she wanted to do was burst out into tears. Granted, she wanted to burst out into tears and hug him, but she couldn't. Too much had passed between them; they had both changed in a thousand ways over the past few months. They couldn't just go back to their old ways with one conversation.

Ron shifted closer to her. His voice was low and thick with everything he had ever felt. "You hate this as much as I do, don't you?"

Hermione twisted to face him, hair flying everywhere. "Did you really think I was enjoying this?"

"Well--I just--you and Harry were--and you never--" Ron stammered in a fruitless attempt to articulate what was happening inside of him. Hermione silently waited, heart hammering in anticipation. Come on, Ron, she pleaded. Tell me.

He tried to pull away from her, but Hermione shifted right with him so he knew that she wasn't going anywhere. She had thought it was all about the Horcrux, but now, as she gazed at the man she knew and loved so well, she realized that there was something going on, besides the Horcrux, besides the lack of food, besides his foul temper constantly rearing its ugly head. She knew there was. The Horcrux was augmenting all of those feelings so that he burst out with the fury of a thousand Death Eaters every single day, but the Horcrux didn't create those feelings. They had originated somewhere deep in Ron and if he could just tell her what it was, they could fix it. She knew they could. They could fix anything as long as they did it together.

Ron made an abrupt decision and wheeled back towards her. "Let's go."

"Wh--?"

"Let's go!" Ron repeated excitedly. "Let's get out of here--we're both miserable, so let's go!" He bounced up to his knees so he could take her hand in both of his and squeeze invitingly. He looked more alive and animated than he had in a good long time. "Come on, Hermione, let's go to Australia right now. We can find your parents--I know you miss them--you worry about them all the time--and you can modify their memories again so they remember you--and then you can find some Australian genius magic school to go to and I'll get in there with you--I'll even study for the entrance exams--but let's just go, you and me--please?"

If that wasn't enough to convince her, Ron boldly decided to make one final move. His hands jumped for hers to find the curves of her cheeks, his fingers coiling around her curls, and he leaned in so he could show her that in spite of everything that had happened, in spite of all the ways he was changing, what he felt for her would never, ever change, because as long as she would have him, he was hers.

The impulsive move was just what Hermione needed to jar her out of the stunned daze she had been trapped within. As soon as Ron leaned in, she pulled away. "But Harry--"

Ron looked as though he had just been stabbed in the heart. He roughly wheeled away from her so she wouldn't see his face contort with a frustrated sob. "Thought you'd say that," he admitted grimly.

She was losing him. Fast. Trembling, Hermione hastened to grab his hand again, but Ron jerked away. "Ron, you know I can't wait to go to Australia with you," Hermione scrambled to reassure him. "It's all that's getting me through this, honestly, but we can't go now. You'd never forgive yourself if you left Harry, you know that."

"Harry knows nothing!" Ron reminded her hotly. "I'm not about to get both us killed for someone who doesn't have a bloody clue about how to fix this!"

Hermione actually recoiled at the sudden fury in his voice. Not even Ron could get angry that quickly. And if he wasn't wearing the Horcrux anymore--then it was something deeper--something that couldn't be fixed so easily--

"You're just hungry," Hermione said more to herself in hopes of convincing herself that this was just Ron's irate appetite talking, that Ron couldn't possibly think these horrible thoughts. She got to her feet and dusted off her jeans briskly. "I'll go find you some food."

"Food won't fix this," Ron snarled, not moving an inch. "Harry can, but he bloody won't!"

Hermione dropped back to the ground to appeal earnestly to him. There was very suddenly no time for pretense or tact. She had to just talk and pray that he heard every word she said. "Listen, I know you don't really think that about Harry--"

"Yes, I do!"

"--you're still under the influence of the Horcrux, just like you were saying. You're right--it is affecting you differently--it's still affecting you even after you take it off--so maybe we should cut down on--"

"No," Ron refused, horrified at the prospect. "No, that means you two'll have to wear it even more and you just said that it was affecting the pair of you--"

"But not like you," Hermione stressed as clearly as she could. "And if we don't have you behind us, we might as well just give it up now because we're done for!"

"So why am I so different?" Ron asked harshly, but Hermione could see that he really did need to find an answer. He was just as concerned about his actions as they were. He just couldn't seem to stop himself whenever he was around the Horcrux.

"I don't know," Hermione said miserably. "But we don't have time to find an answer so Harry and I--"

"Harry and you?"

Hermione wished she could smack herself on the side of the head. That had to be the worst possible thing she could have said at this moment.

Ron straightened up and glared at her. Hermione pressed her lips together to keep from moaning or crying. Ron was gone again. "You and Harry talked about me?"

"Only because we're worried," Hermione explained hastily. "We really are, Ron, you have to know that, you're so different--and I miss you--and," Hermione suddenly snapped into the offensive, "you and I talk about Harry all the time, why is that any different?"

"Because it's you and me and--" Ron swallowed the rest of the words grimly and hastily changed the subject. "Do you really think Harry knows what he's doing? Yes or no?"

"Ron, that's not really a fair question--"

"Yes or no?"

"Well. No," Hermione admitted in a very quiet voice. She felt as though she was stabbing Harry in the back just by voicing her concerns aloud, even to a deserted forest glen. "I suppose I thought he had a bit more to go on after all the lessons he had with Dumbledore so it was a bit disappointing to hear that he didn't know anymore than we do, but Ron, we know that Dumbledore has ever given anyone a straight answer to anything. It wouldn't be safe for him to just tell Harry what to do--"

"Stop defending him!" Ron hissed with a roll of his eyes. "Yes or no?!"

"No!" Hermione answered, a bit frightened by this latest display of temper. "I just said that!"

Ron instantly sobered and tried for her hand again. "Then let's go," he pleaded once again. "Harry's going to get us killed if we don't."

"I don't believe that," Hermione refused. "Harry would die before he let anything happen to us."

"Really? Is that so?" Ron pretended to think about it. "Well, let's see. I got Splinched and he didn't drop dead. I got poisoned and he didn't keel over. You got cursed by Dolohov right in front of him and he just kept on running--"

"That is not what happened!"

"Harry is obsessed with Gregorovitch," Ron carried on. "He's not thinking about the Horcruxes--he doesn't even know what to do about the Horcruxes. We just sit here, talking about the same things over and over again--you and Harry never think of anything new; you never even try to think of anything new. How're we going to do anything if we just sit here?! We'd be better off if we just went and tried to find them by ourselves!"

"We can't do that," Hermione refused, lowering her voice in hopes that Ron would do the same. They really couldn't continue shouting in the middle of the forest lest they were overheard by any Muggles, or worse, Harry. "We need Harry."

"I don't," Ron denied in a whisper, catching on to her silent warning to keep their voices down.

"Yes, you do," Hermione said certainly. "You know you do. Don't lie to yourself."

"Do you need him?" Ron asked abruptly, his face suddenly hard and mean and unrecognizable.

"Of course I do," Hermione answered honestly, bewildered why Ron even bothered to ask. Of course she needed her best friend.

Ron looked away from her. "Of course you do," he echoed.

Hermione scooted even closer to him so he wouldn't mistake her meaning. "And you know I--"

"But you admit it?" Ron interrupted. "That Harry's not doing a good job?"

"Do you think you can do better?" Hermione countered wearily. She had a feeling that this conversation could go on for a long time. "You're certainly not doing a lot for us right now. Harry and I are doing all of the work."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You and Harry."

"Yes, me and Harry--"

And speaking of Harry, he was walking towards them, looking a little anxious, right now. Hermione cut herself off and jumped to her feet so she could pretend to be searching for firewood. Ron instantly cottoned on and mirrored her movements. "Hi, Harry," Hermione greeted breathlessly as Harry came to an abrupt stop, looking back and forth between them with horrifying suspicion all over his face. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah. Really well, actually," Harry answered very slowly. Hermione did her best to look innocent, but she knew from the dismayed look in Harry's eyes that he wasn't buying it. He knew. He knew that they were sitting out here, talking about him behind his back. He glanced over at Ron, who was doubled over, obviously not searching for much of anything. His face fell a bit further. Hermione bit her lip, wanting nothing more than to hug him and reassure him that they may be thinking all the awful thoughts that Harry himself was afraid to realize, but they weren't going to act on them. They were staying by his side, no matter what.

But she couldn't. They couldn't say anything they wanted to say. Instead, she tilted her head invitingly towards the clump of bushes. "Want to help us find something for dinner?"

Ron was mumbling again under his breath, but both she and Harry ignored it. "Yeah," Harry agreed. He still looked rather sick at the thought of his best friends conspiring against him. He wanted nothing more than to reassure them that he would figure this out if it was the last thing he did, but instead he too stretched his face into a fake smile and headed towards the indicated bush. "Let's find some fungus."