Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

Please, celebrate me home,
Give me a number,
please, celebrate me home
Play me one more song,
That I'll always remember,
I can recall,
Whenever I find myself too all alone,
I can make believe I've never gone,
I never know where I belong,
Sing me home.

**

Harry, I think we should go home. Just for a little while, to get our bearings. We're not going to be able to survive the winter if we don't get adequate supplies--

Hermione shook her head at herself. That wasn't true. While amassing fresh food supplies and other necessities would be very helpful, it certainly wasn't necessary. They were actually managing just fine with their weekly forages into Muggle settlements. Harry would point this out, and the conversation would be over.

Harry, I think we should go home. Just for a little while, a few days at the most. I think it might help us if we touched base with the Order and learned what was happening--

She vetoed the idea too. Receiving an update on what was currently happening in the world may prove to be useful, but it was unlikely that it would. Voldemort was not known for his originality; he was probably still continuing with the repeated Muggle attacks, the relentless hunt for Muggle-borns and blood-traitors, the pursuit for anyone and everyone who defied the tyrannical regime. It was the same stories everyday over and over again; hearing about them all would probably just demoralize them more than inform them of anything useful.

Harry, I think we should go home. Just for a little while. We could ask Mr. Weasley to help us find the books we talked about--I bet he would help us without asking too many questions--

No. Any mention of the Weasley family would only clue Harry in on her true intentions. Besides, mentioning books right now may not be the best idea. Harry was still rather shaken up from what they had discovered about Dumbledore in the book she had stolen from Bathilda's house. Hermione swallowed hard as she twisted around from her seat at the opening of the bunk to watch Harry uneasily sleep. All of their faith in Dumbledore had been a bit shaken by the events of the past few months, but one thing that Harry could never possibly doubt was that Dumbledore's love for him. Harry may have lost his father, but he had gained several more as he had grown up. He just had a nasty habit of losing those father figures as well. Dumbledore was one of them, she was certain of it, no matter what skeletons he had buried in his broom cupboard.

Harry, I think we should go home. Just for a little while. I know you don't believe me, but I really think you could use some proper medical attention after what happened last night--

That was the worst idea of them all. Harry would never risk life and limb for his own safety. And he would have known she was lying; Ron's Splinching injury very well could have killed him and she never once had thought of taking him to a Healer. Although she really wouldn't have minded having Harry checked out--no one could recover very quickly from what Harry had just been through--she knew better than to suggest that. To properly treat Harry, they would have to explain what had happened: that Harry had been attacked by a snake that was masquerading as the author of A History of Magic while wearing a highly dangerous Dark object and while escaping, Lord Voldemort himself had arrived which had set off the highly dangerous Dark object and sent Harry through a series of highly violent visions, seizures, and convulsions that left him pale, weakened, and terrified. She had a feeling that that story wouldn't sit too well with whomever they actually thought they could trust with that information.

Harry, I think we should go home. Just for a little while. Ollivander may be captured, but we may be able to find a wand for you to use. We're not going to make it very long with only one.

That was a valid reason, but Hermione cut herself off nevertheless. She didn't want to relive the overwhelming guilt of breaking your best friend's dearest and most important possession. She might as well just rip up Harry's Invisibility Cloak while she was at it.

Harry, I think we should go home. Just for a little while. I know you don't agree, but I really think we need Ron here.

Her ribcage shook as the Harry in her head shrewdly responded: we need Ron here or you need Ron here?

She wiped her face but there was no need; the pitch-black night was so cold that her tears froze the second they leaked out of her eyes.

Harry, I think we should go home...

This time, the Harry she was imagining having this conversation with interrupted: Home? Where would that be?

Hermione hugged her sweatshirt tighter around her pajamas. I don't know anymore, she admitted to Harry and herself. She and Harry didn't have a home; they had given up that luxury months ago. She glanced over her shoulder again to see Harry twitch uncomfortably in his sleep, muttering to himself, probably lost in another dream that relived the hell he had gone through with the Horcrux. He was the only family she had left now.

She returned her attention to outside the tent. The darkness suddenly shifted among the trees ahead of her. Hermione squinted and moved herself into a defensive crouch to ascertain if she needed to wake Harry up. Her wand panned across the circumference of their protective bubble, but it must have just been a trick of her eye because she didn't see anything again. She holstered her wand so she could try one last time to think of a way to get Harry to leave all of this for a while, finally settling on the truth.

Harry, I think we should go home. Just for a little while.

Why, the imaginary Harry inquired.

Because I don't think I can do this anymore.

**

It was too cold the next day to do much of anything. After arriving at the Forest of Dean, Harry and Hermione spent the entire day huddled around the fire, only speaking a few words every now and then. Realistically, Hermione knew that they should be discussing some rather important things right now, but every time she glanced over at Harry to begin, she ended up silently returning her attention to the blue flames crackling away in the bowl. Harry still looked too ill to handle a conversation like this.

She snuck a peek out of the opening of the tent. It had already been dark for hours. Hermione rather wished it was still daylight; at least that would give her the illusion that the world was brighter and safer. She turned back to the flames and had to close her eyes as the fire was much too bright to bear after gazing out into the deep night. It was so cold. The charms on Perkins' tent must be fading. Perhaps she could use that as a reason to head back to civilization. They could very well freeze out here. It was hard to believe that with all of their magical abilities, they couldn't even manage to stay warm. It was even harder to believe that they, the Boy-Who-Lived and the brightest witch Hogwarts had ever seen, were failing so miserably. Even though Hermione wasn't wearing the Horcrux, she felt just as though she did have the imprisoning locket around her neck and it was strangling her, throttling the life out of her until there was nothing left. Ice-cold, frigid water stung her skin like scalding needles, burying her in torrents and gallons of the suffocating liquid. It gushed through her mouth and nostrils so there was no hope of breathing; all she could do was fall down into the maelstrom, down, down--

Harry jumped with her as her head drooped to his shoulder. Thinking that he would rather die than touch the person responsible for his broken wand, Hermione jerked away from him, muttering an apology. Harry however only looked concerned. "You okay?"

"Of course. You?"

"Yeah." He glanced at her again before getting to his feet and stretching. "Go to bed," Harry told her. "I'll take watch."

Hermione stoutly shook her head. "No, I'll do it. You need rest. You didn't sleep well last night."

"You didn't sleep at all," Harry returned. "You did the watch last night. I'll be fine."

Hermione looked him up and down tiredly to see if he really was all right. He still was rather pale, but other than that, he appeared to be as alert as ever. He probably had reached that point of sleep-deprivation that Hermione knew all too well from exam-week: where you were so exhausted that your adrenalin kicked in to compensate from the lack of energy, making you edgy and jittery. However, this effect was only temporary; Harry was going to crash soon, and crash rather hard.

However, Hermione had a nasty feeling that if she tried to take the watch right now, she would be falling into another nightmare within ten minutes. "Okay," she agreed reluctantly as she passed off her wand to him. "But wake me if you get too tired."

"Okay," Harry said although Hermione knew he wouldn't. He had told her the same thing last night before going to bed, and although she had been exhausted, she hadn't dared to wake him.

Hermione started towards her bunk, not bothering to change into pajamas as it was far too cold to get out of her clothing, but paused after a moment. "Harry? We should probably talk tomorrow about what we're going to do now."

Harry sounded as though he had swallowed a brick. He knew how bad this was going to be. "Yeah. We will."

Hermione felt horrible, but she knew it had to be done. They couldn't go on like this anymore. "Good night."

"Night."

Harry moved an old cushion into the tent mouth and sat down to keep guard. Hermione wrapped her and Ron's blankets snugly around her in hopes that they would somehow protect her from everything that was falling apart around them. She closed her eyes tightly, praying that when she dropped off to sleep, as she surely would in just a few moments, she could dream about Ron. She had to see him.

After several outrageous vignettes peppered with people Hermione hadn't seen in years, Ron did make an appearance in the Australian outback Hermione had traveled to, but only a brief fleeting one. All she saw was his back as he walked away from her. She tore after him, screaming at him to stop, but the ground cracked open before she could reach him, cutting a wide gorge in between them. She was running so fast that she almost tumbled right into the abyss, but Hermione wrenched herself backwards with her arms spread wide for balance, the tips of her toes peeking dangerously over the edge of the cliff. She teetered and wobbled, but she didn't fall. She stayed on solid ground.

"Hermione!"

Hermione stubbornly pushed herself out of the dream and sat up as quickly as she could, pushing her hair out of her face. Harry. Her head buzzed confusedly as her hand groped for her wand before remembering that she didn't have it anymore. "What's wrong? Harry? Are you all right?" she asked groggily, trying as frantically as she could to wake herself up. Harry wouldn't have woken her up unless it was something direly important.

"It's okay, everything's fine. More than fine. I'm great." Hermione blinked as she tried to hear his voice correctly. Harry actually sounded happy; that couldn't be right. "There's someone here," Harry added.

Panic chased away the last confusing dregs of sleep. "What do you mean? Who--?"

When she first saw him, she thought for a wild moment she was still in her dream. She actually had to pinch herself under the blankets to remind herself that she wasn't. But he couldn't. It had to be a dream. That was the only way he could be standing here, holding Gryffindor's sword, dripping water onto the threadbare carpet, because it made absolutely no sense that he could be here, with her again.

Harry was backing away into a corner and unloading a large rucksack from his back that Hermione recognized as Ron's. He too was soaked to the skin. But Hermione couldn't think about that right now. She could only stare at the prodigal friend who had seemed to have returned. The brightest eyes she had ever known, the eyes that had always been able to see everything inside of her, bore into her face, fighting to see her smile and convince her that this really wasn't a dream. Her entire body shivered in a way that couldn't happen in the depths of slumber and that's when Hermione knew it wasn't a dream. He was here. Against all odds, he had come back.

She slid out of the bunk and walked towards him, her heart pounding so fiercely that she could hardly remember how to set one foot instead of the other. Her heart had returned. He was back. He was back?

And so was she. As she stood there in front of him, almost as if in a dream, Hermione Granger returned in full force. All of her strength, intelligence, and inner fire blazed up so she was now anything but useless. And most of all, of the fury and frustration that she had repressed, that she hadn't been capable of dealing with due to her grief, was there, right at the forefront of her mind, ready to be inflicted on the person who deserved the power of her wrath, and she knew beyond a shadow of doubt what she had to do.

"Ouch--ow--gerroff! What the--? Hermione--OW!" he bellowed as she strategically slugged him on his Splinching injury.

She didn't care. She couldn't care less. And she had never been happier that she could inflict so much pain on him. He deserved it. She kept right on hitting him, punctuating every word with a blow: "You--complete--arse--Ronald--Weasley!" Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced, never stopping. "You--crawl--back--here--after--weeks--and--weeks--" this was just not enough so Hermione whipped her head around to find a more suitable weapon, "--oh, where's my wand?" Ron was going to see just how much better she was as conjuring flocks of birds.

She started towards Harry, but he was already reacting. "Protego!" The invisible shield erupted between Ron and Hermione: The force of it knocked her backward onto the floor. Spitting hair out of her mouth, she leapt again, narrowing her eyes as she examined the shield. Maybe if she ran fast enough, she could break the barrier just by the sheer force of her determination.

"Hermione! Calm--"

"I will not calm down!" she screamed. She couldn't understand how Harry could be so calm, so quiet, so happy. He was actually happy that Ron was back--and yes, she was too, of course she was glad Ron was safe and sound--but that did not mean that he could get away with this. If he thought he could just come back and pretend that nothing had happened, he was dead wrong. He hadn't gotten through Lavender without some consequences and Hermione would be damned if she allowed him to get by without more of the same. She held out her hand to Harry, wondering if she could Summon her wand without it. "Give me back my wand! Give it back to me!"

Harry was gaping at her as though he had never quite seen her before. "Hermione, will you please--"

"Don't you tell me what to do, Harry Potter!" she screeched, exasperated beyond belief. He wasn't much help at the moment. "Don't you dare! Give it back now!" She saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye so Hermione whirled back around with an accusing finger. "And YOU!" Ron retreated several steps, paler than ever. He looked as though he had just been told he had to battle a chimera. "I came running after you! I called you! I begged you to come back!"

"I know," Ron said, looking pathetically apologetic, "Hermione, I'm sorry, I'm really--"

"Oh, you're sorry!" She laughed hysterically, feeling her brain actually unhinging a bit. "You come back after weeks--weeks--and you think it's all going to be all right if you just say sorry?"

"Well, what else can I say?" Ron shouted back.

He was fighting back--he actually dared to fight back? "Oh, I don't know!" yelled Hermione with awful sarcasm. "Rack your brains, Ron, that should only take a couple of seconds--"

She actually felt guilty for that particular comment; insulting Ron's intelligence was the worst possible thing to do for his self-esteem. But there was no time to dwell on that; Harry was trying to intervene. "Hermione, he just saved my--"

"I don't care!" she screamed. "I don't care what he's done! Weeks and weeks, we could have been dead for all he knew--"

"I knew you weren't dead!" bellowed Ron, approaching as close as he could with the Shield Charm between them. "Harry's all over the Prophet, all over the radio, they're looking for you everywhere, all these rumors and mental stories, I knew I'd hear straight off if you were dead, you don't know what it's been like--"

"What it's been like for you?" Hermione interrupted in indignation. Did he actually think--could he really--expect--how could--what--Ron--Hermione couldn't speak anymore and had to take a few steps away to try to regain control; her voice had become so shrill that only bats would be able to hear her.

Ron seized his opportunity. "I wanted to come back the minute I'd Disapparated, but I walked straight into a gang of Snatchers, Hermione, and I couldn't go anywhere!"

"A gang of what?" Harry asked, trying to play peacekeeper. Hermione stalked over to a chair and took a seat with her arms and legs crossed tightly to indicate her disapproval as she listened to Ron's story. Normally, she would have been very concerned to hear that he had fallen into such dangerous hands, but as of now, she particularly didn't care whoever Ron had walked into; he should have tried to come back. This was Ron. He had promised her he'd always be there with them, no matter what. His abandonment had to be the highest form of treason possible.

When Ron finished his tale, Hermione was ready with a comeback. "Gosh, what a gripping story," Hermione said in the lofty voice she adopted when wishing to wound. "You must have been simply terrified. Meanwhile we went to Godric's Hollow and, let's think, what happened there, Harry? Oh yes, You-Know-Who's snake turned up, it nearly killed both of us, and then You-Know-Who himself arrived and missed us by about a second."

"What?" Ron said, gaping from her to Harry, but Hermione ignored him.

"Imagine losing fingernails, Harry! That really puts our sufferings into perspective, doesn't it?" she said sarcastically. Her eyes however darted just for one second back to his right hand to check the injury once again to make sure that it had healed properly.

"Hermione," said Harry quietly before she could say anything else, "Ron just saved my life."

So that was why they were both so wet. Hermione had actually thought that there had possibly been a physical confrontation between them and they had been soaked by the snow. But now as she took a closer look at them, they had to have actually submerged themselves in water; that was the only explanation for how wet they really were. They really should change their clothes before they caught cold.

But Ron had proven that he didn't want or need her help anymore, so Hermione fixed her eyes on a spot a foot over Ron's head and asked, "One thing I would like to know, though. How exactly did you find us tonight? That's important. Once we know, we'll be able to make sure we're not visited by anyone else we don't want to see."

She could feel him glaring at her, but when he spoke, his voice was quiet and soft. "This."

Unfortunately, she had to look at him to see what he was showing them. She blinked in surprise and promptly forgot everything. "The Deluminator?" she asked curiously. It didn't make any sense.

"It doesn't just turn the lights on and off," said Ron. "I don't know how it works or why it happened then and not any other time, because I've been wanting to come back ever since I left. But I was listening to the radio really early on Christmas morning and I heard...I heard you."

His eyes were locked on her face, so there was no question who he was referring to. "You heard me on the radio?" she asked incredulously. For some reason, she wanted to blush.

"No, I heard you coming out of my pocket. Your voice," he held up the Deluminator again, "came out of this."

That didn't make any sense, but Hermione could see no need for Ron to lie about this. "And what exactly did I say?"

"My name. 'Ron.' And you said...something about a wand..."

Now Hermione really did blush. Oh. Now it was starting to make some sense--Christmas morning had been the first time she had said Ron's name aloud since the day he left. Ron went on to explain his rather remarkable story about following the little ball of light to their whereabouts and even though Hermione didn't want to, she listened intently, her faith in Dumbledore becoming renewed with every passing moment. That was the Deluminator's other power; it could detect who wanted or needed Ron by the utterance of his name. That was why it was given to him; she had always wondered why Dumbledore had wanted Ron to control the lights, especially when he had a knack of turning them off when Hermione was reading something important. Dumbledore had known. He always knew.

It wasn't until Ron mentioned seeing a doe that Hermione stopped thinking about Dumbledore. "You saw the what?" she asked sharply. She couldn't understand why a deer would be wandering around the forest at this time of night.

"A doe--a silver doe," Ron explained more eagerly as he began to realize that the cold front may be passing. "I was looking for you two and was about to settle down for the night when I saw this big silver doe walking through the trees--it was really bright and lighting everything up--and that's when I heard footsteps and Harry was following it--"

"It came and found me," Harry jumped in, "like it was looking for me or something and she looked at me and turned and walked away and I knew I was supposed to follow so I did and she took me to this frozen pool that had the sword at the bottom of it--"

Hermione promptly let out a mighty gasp, even though she had noticed that Ron had it in his hand this entire time. "I know," Ron said enthusiastically with an expectant bob of the head, hoping that their mutual shock would be enough to spark a reconciliation.

She gave him a quick scowl; he cowered and she returned her attention back to Harry, leaning forward keenly so she could try to make sense of all of this. "But it must have been a Patronus! Couldn't you see who was casting it? Didn't you see anyone? And it led you to the sword! I can't believe this! Then what happened?"

"Well, I did see someone," Ron said a bit hesitantly. Hermione gave him an approving nod to give him permission to continue. "That must have been who cast it, but by that time Harry had jumped in the pool. He must have waited to see if Harry would get the sword. Harry hadn't come up so I knew something was wrong so I dove in and got Harry out of there and then went back for the sword."

Hermione turned to Harry, mouth open to ask a question, but Ron was all ready on it. "He had the Horcrux on." Hermione emitted a silent groan of understanding. "So I got it off him and he woke up and we looked to see if the person who cast the Patronus, but he was long gone by then." Ron's eyes shot over to Harry, unspoken gratitude shining in his eyes. "And then Harry said he reckoned--I should be the one to use the sword on the Horcrux, that way we could see if it was the real sword or not. So Harry talked in Parseltongue to get the locket to open up and--"

Ron paused, inciting Hermione's wrath once again. This was not the best place to stop his story. His eyes were still on Harry, uncertain whether or not he should go on, so Harry cut in. "And Ron stabbed it with the sword."

"And..." Hermione waited for Harry to go on; that couldn't possibly be the end of the story. When it became apparent that it actually was, Hermione went on, "And it went? Just like that?"

"Well, it--it screamed," said Harry with a half a glance at Ron. "Here."

He threw the locket into her lap; gingerly she picked it up and examined its punctured windows. That was rather clever of Harry: diverting her suspicion by giving her the locket to examine. He wasn't fooling her a bit, though. She knew something else had happened before the locket was destroyed, but she also knew that it wasn't the time to ask. Besides, the locket really was much more interesting. It was so odd to run her fingers over the curves of the gold and not so much as shiver. The evil presence was gone, never to return again. They really had done it. They had finally, finally destroyed a Horcrux.

Harry was asking about Ron's extra wand; Ron's voice sounded distracted as he replied and went to his rucksack to retrieve the wand for Harry. She glanced up to find to her surprise that the Shield Charm was gone so she had an unobstructed view of Ron at his backpack, still soaked the bone, shivering ever so slightly, alive and well and back home where he belonged. In spite of all of her furies, her heart skipped the slightest of beats at the sight of him. It really was very good to see him again.

She rose quietly to her feet so she wouldn't disrupt Harry and Ron's conversation about Harry's broken wand, but Ron twitched and snapped his mouth shut the second Hermione moved. His face was stretched and terrified as he braced himself for round two.

But this wasn't the time for round two; even Hermione could see that. Ron was still very wet, clearly exhausted, and needed to get some rest before he fell ill. Hermione put the vanquished Horcrux into the beaded bag, then climbed back into her bed and settled down without another word. She burrowed herself beneath the blankets and watched as Ron passed Harry the new wand. Harry murmured something to him which Hermione couldn't catch, but she could clearly hear Ron respond, "Yeah. Could've been worse. Remember those birds she set on me?"

"I still haven't ruled it out," Hermione informed him although she was glad that he still considered those birds to be a very viable threat. She half-closed her eyes so she could watch Ron, but embarrassedly averted her gaze as she realized that he was changing. Harry, still wired from the night's events, offered to continue the watch and settled down at the opening of the tent, looking as exhilarated as he was when he first rode on a broom. She fought a sigh as she spotted Ron's sopping wet, freezing cold clothes in a heap on the floor. He hadn't bothered to dry his hair either. Idiot. He was probably going to catch his death of cold.

"Hermione?"

"What?" Hermione returned crossly, not moving a muscle.

"Um." Ron sounded torn between fear for his personal safety and complete amusement with the current situation. "That's my blanket."

She was much too mortified to be angry. "Oh." Avoiding his eyes, she unwrapped his blanket from around her, shoved it to his feet, and hid under the shelter of her blanket. She couldn't believe that he knew that she had taken to sleeping with his blanket; she didn't want him to know just yet how much she missed him.

"Thanks." Ron started to shuffle away, but stopped as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Unless you need it? You cold?"

"No," Hermione reassured curtly as she kept herself safely out of sight. She didn't think she could trust herself right now. "No, I'm fine."

"All right. Night," he said very softly, in that special voice that she always hoped was just for her. To further assure her that it was, Ron raised his voice to speak to Harry. "Night, Harry!"

"Good night," Harry said cheerfully.

Hermione on the other hand didn't answer straightaway. Instead, she waited until Ron had settled himself into his old bunk and listened for the comforting sounds of his steady snores. Only then did she lift her head free of the folds of the blanket so she could gaze upon him. She was still furious, and would be for quite some time, but that wasn't going to stop her from loving him with everything she had. "Night, Ron," she mouthed silently to him. She smiled sleepily into her pillow. Welcome home, she added happily.