Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

Ann Margaret

Story Summary:
The end of the series from our favorite herione's point of view--discover the millions of things that happened that not even the Boy Who Lived knew about! Follows Hermione Granger and the Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince.

Chapter 15 - Chapter 15

Posted:
01/01/2008
Hits:
4,409


Please don't let this turn into something it's not
I can only give you everything I've got
I can't be as sorry as you think I should
But I still love you more than anyone else could

All that I keep thinking throughout this whole flight
Is it could take my whole damn life to make this right
This splintered mast I'm holding on won't save me long
Because I know fine well that what I did was wrong

The last girl and the last reason to make this last for as long as I could
First kiss and the first time that I felt connected to anything
The weight of water, the way you told me to look past everything I had ever learned
The final word in the final sentence you ever uttered to me was love

**

"So how long's this going to go on?"

Hermione didn't even bother to turn around and crouched down to continue her search for some food. "What are you talking about?"

"This," Ron elaborated. He strode next to her and kneeled down next to her so she would have to face him. Hermione had been trying to avoid that at all costs over the past few weeks, only sending him quick glances whenever absolutely necessary. "How long's this going to go on?" Ron repeated stubbornly.

She kept her eyes fixed to the earth, trying not to marvel that she could hear his heartbeat thumping through her own ribcage, even though he hadn't dared to touch her: he was that nervous. Hermione had to admit that she was a bit nervous herself; over the past few weeks, she had made sure that she and Ron were never alone and he hadn't pushed the issue, giving her space to cool off while trying to win her back with his surprisingly complacent behavior and well-timed jokes. He had nearly caught her a few times, especially when he had convinced Harry to go to the Lovegoods. She had been so surprised, amazed even, that he had actually taken her side for once--Ron always had difficulty going up against Harry--that she had almost returned the smile he had given her. Ron had changed; yes, she wasn't stupid and she knew that he was only doing it to return to her good graces, but it was still thrilling nevertheless. And it was making it very difficult to stay angry at him. And then there had been the way he smiled at her when he had told her she was a genius after she had orchestrated their escape from the Lovegoods, just the way the corners of his eyes had crinkled upwards and sparkled with so much pride and joy and perhaps even love--

But no. She couldn't think that. She couldn't just forgive him and forget that nothing ill had ever transpired between them. Not only had he betrayed them, he had devastated her, almost beyond all possibility for repair. That didn't just go away with a few smiles.

Mistaking her silence as uncertain hesitation, Ron pressed on eagerly. "How long's this going to go on?" Ron said one more time.

This time, Hermione was ready with an answer. "Three years."

Ron blinked. "Three years? You've sentenced me?!"

"Why not?" Hermione stood up to cross over to a more promising bush, briskly brushing off her jeans as she went. A light drizzle started to patter gloomily against the dirt, causing Hermione to quicken her step so she could finish her task before she caught cold. Even though it was unseasonably warm for February, there was still a definite chill in the air and she was running low on their stores of Pepper-Up Potion. "And if you're going to harp on me, you might as well at least be useful as you do and help me look for some more berries."

She half-expected Ron to start groaning about their meager diet, but he was still playing the 'let's-get-back-on-Hermione's-good-side-again' and adhering to every single one of her demands, so he remained at the spot she had just abandoned and continued the search. "Why three years?"

"Because that's how long it took you to figure out that I was a girl," Hermione answered promptly.

She could hear the grin in Ron's voice even from here. "Well, that's just not true," he disagreed. "I noticed you were a girl ages before, right when I first met you. Does that mean you've forgiven me?"

Hermione stood back up and wheeled around to give him her famous glare that often caused frightened first-years to wither on the spot. "You think you're funny now?"

"No. Not funny. Never was, never will be," Ron answered with his arms raised in mock-surrender. He however quickly dropped the pose as soon as Hermione turned her back on him. "Come on, Hermione," he pleaded, taking a few steps forward after double-checking that her wand was safely in her pocket. He didn't fancy getting attacked by those birds again. "It's been like this for months--."

"It hasn't been months, it's been five weeks," Hermione returned almost absently.

"Fine, weeks," Ron corrected exasperatedly. "Harry's got over it ages ago--"

"Well, that's because you saved his life and Harry is a better person than I am," Hermione replied coldly. "I'm not so easily won."

"Believe me, I know," Ron grumbled. He flew an arm up towards the trees as a sudden inspiration struck him. "Well, you want me to save your life then? Go fall into a pool--I'll be right behind you."

Her hands flew to her hips, a clear sign of danger. "Do you really think that's funny--?"

"No!" Ron interrupted hotly. "None of this is funny--bloody hell, nothing about this, and you and me, is funny! I'm just trying to--" He cut himself off exhaustedly and appealed to her pleadingly. "Just tell me what to do, Hermione. I swear, I'll do it. I'll do anything. You know I will."

Hermione tried to flee the scene, feeling her resolve start to falter, but Ron caught her arm before she could escape. "Come on! This is what we do--we row, I act like a git, you get huffy and ignore me, we row it out again, and somehow it all works out--so we've got the first row, and I definitely have the git part down pat, and you've been huffy for weeks--!"

"I have not been huffy," Hermione disagreed tempestuously, sweeping her hair angrily over her shoulder which was a bit more difficult than usual. The rain had weighed her curls down quite a bit.

Ron pointed an accusing finger at her. "See! Right there! Huffy!"

Hermione let out a frustrated half-groan, and half-howl, suppressing the urge to start hitting him again. "Do you really think this is helping?" she demanded, her hands flying to her hips.

"Yes!"

"Well, it isn't!" Hermione informed him hotly. "This isn't just one of our rows, Ron. This can't be fixed so easily--this isn't you being angry because you think my cat ate your rat--you left us! You abandoned us. You swore to Harry last year, after Dumbledore's funeral, that would go anywhere with him and you ran away as soon as the food supplies ran low!"

"It wasn't just the food!" Ron yelled. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him and he amended his answer. "Okay, it was a little about the food, but not really! It was that locket, Hermione, you know what it was doing to me--!"

"Well, you should have done something--talked to me, for example--!"

"I know!" Ron returned. "But I wasn't going to have you feel sorry for me!"

"Feel sorry for you?" Hermione repeated. "Ron, I just wanted to help you--I knew the Horcrux would affect you differently because you're more emotional than Harry and I--"

"Yeah, Hermione," Ron said with a roll of his eyes. "That's something every bloke wants to hear. How emotional he is. Especially from--" He broke off, his face scarlet. "Never mind."

Her cheeks wanted to blush pink as well, but Hermione forced herself to remain impassive. "So that's what this was about? Your pride?"

"No," Ron groaned. For once, Hermione just didn't get it. "It was about everything--and that bloody locket was whipping it all up so it was all I could think about and--" Ron interrupted himself again and took a deep steadying breath. He had wanted them to row, desperately, but he knew that if he was going to win her back, he was going to have fight with at least some degree of logic. "Look, I didn't want to leave you," Ron informed her. "You know that. Why would I? You know I wanted you to come with me--and when you said no, I thought--" His eyes rocketed down to his shoes so he wouldn't have to look at her when he confessed this. "I thought you picked him over me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I wasn't picking sides, Ron. Harry needed me--you would have been furious with me if I had left him!"

"I know, I know--bloody hell, I know that now," Ron agreed hastily. "But at the time, with that ruddy thing around my neck all the time, I just thought--well, I thought it all the time. I couldn't stop thinking it, and then you and him would be off being brilliant together and I couldn't even stop it, because I couldn't say anything brilliant of course and I wasn't even helping so what was the point of staying if I couldn't do anything but watch the pair of you get closer and closer and it was making me sick--"

"Hold on." Hermione raised a hand to stop him. Ron obediently stopped and glanced up from his shoes. He looked almost as young and vulnerable as he had directly after waking up after the infamous chess game in first-year. Hermione was starting to realize that this actually went deeper with the presumption that she and Harry were interested in each other. To make himself believe that she and Harry were involved, he had to discount all of the moments he and Hermione had accumulated over the past six years and the only way he could do that was: "Do you still think that we think of you as a charity case?"

Ron could only manage a nod.

A flood of déjà vu engulfed her, rendering her momentarily speechless. Less than a year ago, she had sat with Ron, asking him this exact same question, and when he had given her that same answer, she had reassured him profusely and thought that he had gotten the message. And then in August, when they had discussed Tonks and Lupin, he had admitted that he understood the urge for leaving everyone he cared about and gave her that look, that look she should have understood completely, but hadn't, or had been too afraid to. Hermione groaned and buried her face in her hands for a moment. That was what was happening, and had been happening, even before the mission even began. Ron still felt like a charity case.

She dropped her hands so she could look at him in disbelief. He still really thought that about himself, even after all they had been through, especially over the past few months. She and Ron had always been especially close, but desperate circumstances often brought friends even closer together and that had proven true for this pair of friends as well. She wouldn't have survived those first few months of their quest if Ron hadn't been there to smile at her, to make her laugh, to take her hand, to put his arms around her, to just sit there and talk to her, to hold her while she slept. They had been closer than close--closer than any friends--closer than any typical teenage boyfriend and girlfriend, as a matter of fact--and even though they rowed all the time and she didn't understand half the things he did or said, they were one heart, one being, so completely tangled up in each other that if one left, the other died as well. He had to know that; he had to know how much he meant to her. He couldn't not know. How could he not? How could he be so stupid?

Ron let out a low cry of shock as Hermione's hands swung at him in renewed fury. "Hey! Not again!"

"How can you still think that?!" she demanded, blinking rapidly to keep those awful feelings at bay. "I told you that we could never think that--Harry never would have allowed you to come in the first place if we thought that--and I wouldn't--I couldn't--" She wasn't brave enough to continue along that long and very complicated road, so Hermione made a hasty detour. "Do you have any idea how much I missed you?"

"No," Ron answered with wide eyes. He had long since caught her flailing hands and held on tight so she couldn't whack him again. He had known that to gain Hermione's forgiveness, he'd have to wear her down so she'd finally snap and burst out with all of the feelings she had been keeping under wraps. It was classic Hermione: she suppressed everything to get the job done and once she let it all out, she could start to move past it. But the only bad thing was that Hermione had a lot of feeling inside her. When it all finally came out, it could be downright scary.

"Well, I did," Hermione informed him unhappily. "I missed you every second of every day. I was useless to Harry--and I don't mean I just thought I was useless because of the Horcrux: I was actually, physically useless. I spent the first day without you crying on a rock--I spent every single night after that crying myself to sleep, wishing you were here--you were in everything I did, well, you always are, but this time it was in a bad way--I couldn't stop thinking about you and worrying about you and wondering if you were all right and if there was any way I could somehow find you and bring you home--if I could have left Harry alone, I would have gone to the Burrow to find you--"

"I wasn't there," Ron reminded her very weakly.

"Well, I didn't know that!" Hermione snapped furiously. "I would have gone anywhere I could to find you! I was even thinking of trying to convince Harry to come with me, but that wouldn't have worked because Harry didn't even want to say your name because it hurt so much to hear it. The first time we said it was when you heard it from the Deluminator--we couldn't bear to talk about you, because if we did, it would make all the more real and we couldn't stand that! But that didn't stop us from thinking about you all the time! We were nothing without you, do you understand that? How could you be a charity case if you happen to make Harry and me everything that we are?! God, Ron, you can be so stupid sometimes!"

Ron fumbled to intervene, but Hermione kept right on going. "I mean, honestly, Ron, you have to know that you are the one--" Hermione swallowed the rest of that sentence and had to look away. She would not cry. After all of the tears she had shed over this boy, it didn't seem possible that she could cry anymore, and yet, here she was, holding back all of those tears all because he was simply gazing at her with the most earnest eyes she had ever seen. "I mean, I'd never thought you, of all people, would--you promised--and I needed you--" She halted shakily again and gave up, wiping her face impatiently. He had seen her cry before; he could take it again.

As always, Ron looked as though he'd like nothing more than to throw himself off the nearest cliff at the sight of her tears. He released her wrists so he could go to her, but Hermione had already given up and flung herself at him. Ron automatically ducked and threw his arms up to shield his face, expecting yet another onslaught of slaps and fists, but Hermione's heart had gotten the best of her and she was wrapping her arms tightly around his neck so she could smell his hair and feel his heart and bury her face against his chest to remind herself that he was really here. Ron was finally home.

Something rippled deep in Ron's ribcage as he returned the embrace just as fiercely. "I'm sorry," he finally apologized. He pressed his face against her so he could breathe in her hair. "I'm so sorry."

For some reason, right now, that was enough. She may never really forgive him, but she definitely couldn't live without him so there was no point in pretending that she could. She tightened her arm around him. Perhaps five weeks was an adequate sentence after all. "Just don't leave again," Hermione mumbled against him.

"Never," Ron promised in that magic voice that could tame the most ferocious manticore in existence.

"I mean it," Hermione warned him as she abruptly pulled back so he could see just how serious she was. "I've been practicing Transfiguring birds while on guard duty. Now they're the size of hawks."

Ron visibly gulped. He knew perfectly well that Hermione wouldn't hesitate to use them. "Well," he said tentatively, "if I'm good, will you use it on Malfoy instead?"

Hermione finally allowed herself to laugh at one of Ron's jokes. "Deal."

"Wicked." He nodded his head back towards the tent. "You should go in--you're soaked."

Hermione felt her hair and to her surprise, found that Ron was right. The drizzle had morphed into a heavy, steady rain that had flattened even the frizziest of her curls and caused her clothes were sticking to her skin, as were Ron's. She hadn't even noticed. "I suppose." She blinked up at the skies in hopes of determining when the storm would pass. "Hopefully, it'll let up so I can find us some food."

"I'll help," Ron immediately offered. She smiled her gratitude, although she was secretly wondering how long this chivalrous act would last before Ron grew tired of it and reverted to his old petulant ways. A year ago, she would have predicted a week, but now, as Ron picked up her basket for her, she wasn't so certain. His time away from his friends seemed to have pushed Ron past the last few steps of adolescence and into full-blown adulthood. He certainly seemed older, more confident, more aware of what was happening around them. In a very small way, it might have been for the best that Ron spent some time away from them. It had allowed him to find himself.

Ron held open the flap of the tent for her. Hermione entered the tent and gave Harry a quick greeting, who was sitting on the floor, staring blankly in front of him, probably obsessing over the Hallows again. She went to her beaded bag so she could retrieve fresh clothes for them. When she turned to give Ron a maroon jumper, she found that he was still standing near the door, staring curiously at her hair as though trying to put together a rather tricky puzzle. "What?" she asked while tossing him the sweater.

He caught it but made no indication of putting it on. "My hair," he said slowly.

"What about your hair? What's wrong with it?" Hermione asked, bewildered. Harry looked equally as perturbed as he got to his feet.

"It was wet when I went to bed that night," Ron explained. He didn't even have to specify what night he was referring to; Hermione already knew and was folding her arms over her chest in hopes of suppressing yet another blush. "But when I woke up it was dry. Bone-dry. As though I never jumped into that pool."

Harry blinked, still having not a bloody clue what was going on. He turned to Hermione who was doing her best to remain unruffled and failing miserably. "Well, hair dries naturally, Ron. What did you expect--it'd stay wet forever?"

"I only slept a few hours," Ron disagreed. He could no longer contain his grin. "And it was wet, Hermione, and you should know that thick hair like ours takes ages to dry on its own. Not to mention that I had jumped into freezing cold water and then walked around outside--I should have gotten sick."

"You must have been still been nice and healthy from all of that time at Bill and Fleur's," Hermione retorted, but it was no use.

"You dried me off," Ron accused happily. "With that steam spell you always use. You waited until I fell asleep and dried me off because you didn't want me to get sick."

Hermione turned her back on him so quickly that stinging droplets from her slick hair whipped everywhere across the room. "Well, of course, I did--did you think I wanted you to finally drag yourself back here only to get ill on us?"

But it was no use. Ron was so gleeful that he could have leaped over Hogwarts in a single bound. "Hermione, I had no idea you cared."

"Remember what I told you about those birds?" Hermione threatened.

"Ah, you said you'd use them if I left again," Ron pointed out. He raised his arms to the side as though preparing to make a deep bow. "I'm not going anywhere. You'll have to use something else on me." He chuckled, thinking he had won, but his laughter soon faded as Hermione marched over to her purse to extract a small, black book, deciding abruptly that this was the prime time to reveal it to her friends. "Hey! Where'd you get that?!"

Hermione ignored him and held up the book for all to see. "Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches--Harry, would you like to hear some of this?"

"Yeah!" Harry jumped up onto the armchair so he could avidly listen to her every word. "I do--I had to leave my copy behind."

"Give it!" Ron demanded as he charged forward to retrieve his book.

Hermione adeptly ducked out of the way; Ron had so much momentum that he crashed face-first into the wall of the tent. "Number One: Chivalry--Not Just for Knights."

Harry clapped a hand over his forehead. "Of course! That's where Cho and I went wrong."

"That includes helping her with small insects and pests, by the way," Hermione informed Harry in her best McGonagall voice. She turned to give Ron, who was gaping on the floor at her, a mischievous grin. "A big family of spiders in the bathtub, for example."

Ron's eyes popped. "You--"

She waved her hand at him to silence his insults. "Number two--" Ron lunged for her again and there was no way Hermione could avoid him in time. She managed to hurl the book over at Harry two seconds before Ron tackled her and they tumbled down to the carpet.

Harry leapt out of his chair to neatly catch the book and flip it open to the page Hermione had just read from. "Number Two: Your Wand--Your Actual One (We Don't Mean--"

He cut himself off so he could lob the book back to Hermione as Ron clamored back to his feet and dove towards his best mate. It jumped out of her hands and bounced to the floor. She fell to her knees, but it was too late; Ron was already there, chuckling gleefully in triumph. Hermione let out a squeal of laughter as they both struggled for the volume. "Harry, help!"

But as always, Harry was already racing to the rescue. With an adept baseball slide, he forced his way between his struggling friends so he too could lay his hands on the cover. Together, the three tussled, thrashed, kicked, poked, tickled, and did whatever they could possibly do to defer their opponents without actually harming them. Laughter echoed throughout the tent as it never had before. Ron finally ended it by cleverly snatching off Harry's glasses and while holding them safely in the air, he used his feet to push Hermione aside and wrench the book free of their grips. "Aha!"

Harry and Hermione were too exhausted to care. All three of them lay on their backs, staring up at the peak of the tent, trying to catch their breath but being unable to thanks to the fits of laughter that kept consuming them. Hermione grinned, remembering a night at Hogwarts when the three of them had acted this childishly and never had had so much fun. She rolled her head to the side to watch Ron carefully return Harry's glasses to him, heart bursting for her two best friends. The trio was finally back.

**

A tug on Hermione's sleeve brought her to a quick halt; Hermione squeezed Ron's hand, their prearranged signal, and he too came to a stop. Hermione pretended to use the reflection of the nearby store window to fuss with her grey hair while Ron readjusted the hat that covered his balding head. "What?" he breathed.

Under the safety of the Cloak, Harry pushed Hermione's hand very subtly towards the window in the direction of the potions displayed in the window. She understood immediately and fished some money out of her beaded bag, counting the Galleons she had left. Ron watched over her shoulder. It was so odd to have him be the same height at her, but none of them could be seen as themselves so she and Ron had used the last of the hairs they had used for their trip to Godric's Hollow while Harry stayed under the Cloak, keeping clear of the few remaining patches of snow that were clumped on the cobblestone sidewalk.

"Do we have enough?" Ron asked in a normal voice.

"I think so," Hermione answered. They were running low on wizarding currency, but she thought there was enough to replenish their Pepper-Up potion supply. All three of them had caught several colds this winter, thanks to the long hours on guard duty. She glanced around Upper Flagley to see if there was a bank of some sort. Perhaps they should exchange some Muggle money into Galleons before they left.

However, Ron shoved her hand back into the bag before she could extract any of the telltale currency. "No," he reminded her sharply. "You might as well just wear a sign that says 'Muggle-born' on your back if you try to exchange that here."

She nodded and dropped the notes back into the recesses of the purse. "We'll need to stop in a Muggle place then," Hermione told them. "Get some more supplies there."

"Fine." Ron looked all around before taking the Galleons from her. "I'll get the potion; wait here."

Ron disappeared into the store. It was Hermione's turn to glance around them before speaking in an undertone once again. "Anything?"

"No," Harry bleakly informed her. As expected, he always had an uncanny sense whether or not they were on the right track with their Horcrux hunt. This was the twelfth village they had searched in the past few weeks and Harry had been able to predict all twelve times that they wouldn't find anything. At first, Hermione had thought it was Harry just being apathetic thanks to his new obsession with the Hallows, but she soon learned that it was more than that. Just as Harry could see into Voldemort's mind, he could also sense if a part of his soul was nearby. If it was here, he would be able to feel it in the chilly air.

She blew out a disappointed breath. Like all of their theories, it had been half-baked and highly unlikely, but she still rather hoped that one of these times, a miracle would occur and they would find a Hufflepuff cup was waiting for them. "Well. We'll still take a look anyway."

"We're wasting time," Harry said somewhat edgily.

She cast a stern glance in the direction of his voice. "We're not. It helps to keep moving."

And it really did. She had to admit that the idea of hiding a Horcrux here, or any of the other places, was absolutely ridiculous. But it helped just be out in the open, surrounded by people, away from the claustrophobic tent. Even if they weren't necessarily making progress, it at least felt like they were, instead of sitting around that bloody tent, not moving a muscle or doing a single thing. She folded her arms over her chest to ward of a chill. "Besides, you never know," she added, quoting Ron's constant refrain.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his voice now complacent, sounding even grateful for Ron's leadership. "You're right."

Ron burst out of the store, potion in one hand and a rolled-up newspaper in the other. He looked anything but happy with his purchases. With a jerk of his head towards the nearest alley, Ron led the way down the alley so they were safely behind large refuse bin. "Look at this."

Hermione took the paper so she could examine it, Harry pulling off the Cloak so he too could take a look. As usual, Harry blinked bemusedly at them from the front page; the Prophet ran a daily notice for the capture of Harry Potter. But now it appeared there was a new face that would be posted everyday alongside his: Hermione Granger had just been named Unmentionable Number Two.

"Well, we knew that was going to happen," Harry said with forced cheer. "We knew they saw you with me at the Lovegoods."

Hermione did know that, but that wasn't her concern at the moment. She held up the newspaper so they could both see the photograph of her. She was sitting on some steps, a few years younger and more innocent, wearing casual Muggle clothing that she knew she had never worn at school. "How did they get that picture of me?" Hermione asked, her heart beating so fast it was making her sick. "I'm not in uniform--I'm not at Hogwarts--they couldn't have got it from school--"

Ron wrenched the newspaper from her, almost ripping it in half in the process. He squinted at it very carefully. "You're at my house." He stabbed his finger at the warped step she was sitting on. "See? That dent? That's from when Ginny and I were racing and she tripped me so she'd win. And there." Ron now pointed to the sliver of a sleeve that was on the very edge of the frame. Someone was sitting next to her, wearing a violently orange shirt; the Prophet must have cropped him out of the picture. "That's my Cannons shirt. This is from when you came to visit before the Quidditch World Cup--that picture Dad took of you, me, Ginny, and my brothers on your first day there, after we played Quidditch--"

"I know, I know," Hermione remembered that photograph all too clearly. Ginny had given her a copy of the picture for Christmas fourth-year and it had been carefully tucked in one of her photo albums, a photo album she had left in Winterbourne.

It was Harry's turn to grab the paper to take a look for himself. Ron turned wild-eyed to Hermione. "How'd they--" His voice was growing more and more panicked, but he suddenly stopped and scowled. "Oh."

"What?" Hermione asked anxiously. "Where'd they get it?"

He viciously yanked the paper out of Harry's hand to toss it into the dirt; he had yet another reason to despise his traitor of a brother. "Percy."

"Percy had a copy of that picture?" Harry asked. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Bill made copies for all of us. It was a great picture," Ron replied. He couldn't stop himself from punching the wall and promptly had to shake out his stinging knuckles, gritting his teeth to repress a yowl. "Damn it."

"Harry's right; we knew this was going to happen after they saw me with him at the Lovegoods," Hermione tried to reassure him. Now that she knew that they hadn't retrieved the photograph from Winterbourne, she felt loads better. "I just wanted to make sure that they hadn't taken the picture from one of the albums at my house, that's all."

"If they had, they probably would have taken a more recent one," Harry pointed out observantly. He pointed out her still-large front teeth. "You hadn't fixed your teeth yet and you look older now. Maybe someone won't recognize you."

She appreciated Harry's optimism, but all of them knew that it was completely ludicrous. Even in the three-year-old photograph, she still looked very much like Hermione Granger.

"And they haven't been to your house," Ron informed her distractedly. "The charms are still up. Or at least they were in December."

It took a moment for him to realize what he had just said; once he did, his bald patch shone pink. Hermione gazed at him, her eyes openly shining with surprised adoration. "You went to my house?"

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Just to check on things. I had to do something while I was with Bill and Fleur, didn't I?" He stepped out into the open to ensure that no one had noticed them before gesturing to Hermione. "Now get under the Cloak," Ron ordered.

"Ron, I'm--"

"I don't care. Now." Harry tossed the Cloak over her before she could argue. Apparently, he felt the same way. Ron glanced down the alley. "We're not taking any chances with those Snatchers."

"What?" Harry and Hermione chorused as one. "Snatchers are here?" Hermione added.

"Yeah, they were in the store," Ron revealed. "Trying to figure out how many newt eyes go into Polyjuice Potion."

"You don't use newt eyes in Polyjuice," Hermione corrected instantly.

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Even I know that." He paced farther down the alley to check the street before waving them forward. Little did he know that Hermione and Harry had already followed, hands on their wands in case those Snatchers left the store to give Ron any trouble. "I think we'll be all right, they seem like one of the pathetic ones, not like Greyback anyway. But we'll just keep away from them, just in case."

Hermione and Harry couldn't answer now that they were on the street, but Ron knew they were behind him. He glanced at his watch so he could see how much time he had left before changing back into his tall, freckled self. "Twenty-five minutes," he said under his breath. "Plenty of time." He shot a wink over his shoulder. "Shall we?"

Hermione had to stifle a laugh as she and Harry followed close behind him, taking care not to leave any footprints in the melting snow. She was rather glad she had forgiven him; he was almost becoming the new leader of their trio, now that Harry seemed to be so fascinated by the Hallows. She had expressed to Ron how worried she was that Harry would soon be consumed by all of these wonderings that could never be, and he in turn had helped immensely by always keeping them discussing every possibility pertaining to the Horcruxes and following every possible lead they could think of. Ron was actually having them do something; Hermione only wished that he had discovered these leadership skills in the fall. She may never have had to lose him.

But now he was back and it was clear that he never intended to leave ever again. He had learned his lesson. And perhaps--Hermione glanced at Ron's back again as she thought about how he had Apparated to Winterbourne just to check on her house--perhaps it was time that she showed him just how grateful she was that he had.

**

"Ron? Can you come out here for a moment?"

Ron instantly shoved aside the wireless he was tapping and pushed himself off his stomach, glad to be of service. He froze as he suddenly realized what this reminded him of. "Wait. They're aren't spiders out there, are there?"

"I'm sure they're out there somewhere," Hermione conceded with what she hoped was a charming smile. "But that's not why I want you out here."

Harry had been stretched out in an armchair, staring listlessly at the ceiling, as he yet again thought about the Hallows, but he did perk up noticeably at this very interesting exchange. "Anything I can help you with?"

"No," Hermione said immediately. "I just need Ron."

Ron's ears flushed bright red. Harry grinned up at the top of the tent. "Yeah. I thought so."

He snickered, but it was cut short when Ron cuffed the side of his head. "Shut it," Ron said under his breath, but he looked pleased all the same. Ron gallantly followed Hermione out into the early dusk, a light breeze brushing their skin. The definite tang of spring was in the air; it was the first night in a long time that Hermione didn't have every article of clothing bundled over herself. It felt glorious after the months of the long, grueling cold and the balmy weather fit the purposes of the evening perfectly. "What d'you need?"

Hermione didn't answer just yet; she was inspecting skies to determine whether it was too dark for her purposes. She needed a bit of light for this. The sun hadn't set yet, but it was just starting to dip below the horizon. Dark, long shadows spread throughout the field they had camped in so Hermione nodded to his wand. "Can you give me some light?" She'd do it herself, but she needed the full strength of her wand.

"Yeah." Ron waved his wand to nonverbally illuminate the tip. She raised her eyebrows; nice. Ron gave a short, mock bow to indicate his thanks and followed her to the perimeter of their protective enchantments. He knew better than to ask again what was going on; Hermione would only tell him whenever she was ready. When they reached the boundary, Hermione turned around to check behind Ron to make sure they were completely alone. A quick Homenum revelio confirmed that Harry was the only other person around for miles.

"Hang on." Ron raised his wand towards her, peering worriedly at her neck; Hermione brought up her hand to wrap around the exposed area, wondering if she had broken out into a horrible rash or something of the sort. "Where's your locket?"

"The Horcrux? We put it in the bag--"

"No, no, your locket," Ron interrupted. "That silver one you always wear."

Hermione was quite dumbfounded that thick-headed Ron had actually paid attention to the jewelry she wore, but she managed to speak calmly. "I haven't worn my locket in months," Hermione told him.

"I know, but I thought you took it off so you could wear the Horcrux, but now that we got rid of that bloody thing, you could put it back on." He knelt down to sift through the dirt and dead leaves, searching for a flash of the sparkling chain, as if it had just happened to fall off her neck at this very moment. "Did you lose it? Is that why you asked me out here? Where'd it go?"

"No," Hermione answered. "I had to leave it behind months ago, when we went to the Ministry. When I took the Horcrux from Umbridge, I Transfigured my locket to look like the Slytherin locket so she wouldn't notice it had been stolen."

Ron looked horrorstruck, as though he had just found out that Pig had died. "You didn't have to do that."

"Yes, I did," Hermione disagreed. "If Umbridge woke up and found her locket gone, she would report it and since Death Eaters are everywhere in the Ministry, someone may be able to put two and two together. If You-Know-Who finds out what we're doing, we're done for."

"I know, but still..." Ron shook his head. "You love that thing. You wear it all the time."

"I know," Hermione said with what she hoped was a casual shrug. She didn't want him to know that actually still reached for the chain and could still feel memory of the weight of it against her chest everyday. She missed it quite a lot; losing something like that, a piece of jewelry you never took off, no matter how trivial it seemed to others, was rather like losing an old friend.

But Ron seemed to understand that. He kept on shaking his head in amazement. "I can't believe you did that. That's like me giving Vicky all of my Chudely Cannons action figures."

It was only out of her infinite respect and love for Ron that Hermione managed to restrain a laugh. She nodded soberly. "I suppose so. And don't call him Vicky."

He gave her a look to inform her that he would call Viktor Krum whatever he liked, whenever he liked, no matter what she said or did. "So why did you want me out here?"

"Right." Hermione turned away from him to face the wide expanse of land in front of them, closing her eyes to concentrate. "You think Bill would be the easiest person to contact, correct? He lives at Shell Cottage, outskirts of Tinworth?"

"Yeah," Ron said warily. "But--"

Hermione wasn't listening. She was too intent on splitting her attention: forming a brief message to Bill with the left side of her brain while reliving that happy moment at the wedding with her right side, the moment where she had been laughing uproariously with her friends, without a care in the world, looking gorgeous for once in her life, her hand on Ron's arm, their skins humming as one--

"Expecto Patronum!"

Her sleek otter burst out of her wand and flipped through the air with the grace of the most agile swimmer. She swam away from her mistress and disappeared over the rolling hills in less than three seconds. Hermione pocketed her wand in satisfaction.

"Er--" Ron shifted his feet awkwardly. "That's--great. You cast a Patronus. Good job." He hesitated for only a moment. "But couldn't you always do that?"

"Just wait," Hermione informed him. It shouldn't take very long for a response.

She was right. In less than a minute, a large silver owl was gliding swiftly through the air. At the sight of the two, he dove stealthily and came to a quick halt in front of them, wings fluttering to keep itself in the air. It opened its beak to speak to them in Bill's strong voice:

"All well here. Stay safe."

As he had with his father's Patronus, Ron let out a half-groan, half-whimper and sagged with infinite relief. He gazed at her adoringly, just as she had when he told her he had checked on her house. She gave a one-shoulder shrug. "I haven't only been practicing Transfiguring birds during guard duty."

"That was dangerous--" Ron got out, actually practical for once although he looked anything but displeased at her. "They could have seen it--"

"If they had, he wouldn't have responded," Hermione reminded him. "And in that case, I would have Apparated straight there to clean up my mess. Besides, no one knows what my Patronus looks like. They wouldn't know it's us."

"Still..." Ron trailed off and looked at his shoes. For a moment, Hermione worried that he really was upset that she had risked their safety like this, but when he lifted his head again, she knew she had done the right thing. "Thank you."

"Anytime," Hermione returned. "Well," she quickly corrected, "actually, we can't do this anytime, we can't really do this ever again unless we absolutely have to, but I thought it might be nice. Just for tonight." She tilted her head at him so he could see her smile. "As it is a special occasion."

Ron blushed ever so slightly. "I thought you forgot."

"Of course I didn't." Hermione stepped forward to wrap her arms around him and hold him close. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," Ron repeated. He stepped back, looking more embarrassed than ever at the display of unrestrained affection. "I--" he started to say, stumbling to express how much this meant to him, but all he could do was look her right in the eye again and say, "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

The couple started back towards the tent. Ron's stride grew longer and happier with each step. "Best gift I ever got," he added.

Hermione's heart beamed with pride. "Good."

"Yeah," he continued with a shifty glance in her direction. "Loads better than that homework planner."

She swatted him on the arm before stepping back to let him go first so he could see the arrangement of Chocolate Frogs that Harry was trying to make resemble a birthday cake on the table. Harry set the last box on the very top and promptly swore when it all fell apart. He swore even louder when he saw that Ron was already back. "I said give me five minutes!"

"I gave you seven," Hermione retorted. She gestured towards the surprising amount of candy they had amassed. "Go on. We couldn't get you a cake, so we had to make do."

Ron's eyes had almost bugged out of his head at the sight of his favorite candy. "But--how--how--"

"We stole some while under the Cloak at Grantham," Harry explained. "At that candy store with the barrels outside?"

Ron gasped with remembrance and wheeled on Hermione. "You told me not to steal any!"

"I know," Hermione agreed. "It'd be rude if all of us were stealing that candy, wouldn't it?"

She had never seen Ron look so happy. His grin literally stretched from ear to ear. "I knew I've been a good influence on you." He picked up the nearest box and turned it over in his hand. "This is the best present I ever got," Ron corrected, not talking about the candy itself, but the fact that his best friends had taken the time and energy to arrange this little surprise for him, even in the current circumstances.

Harry frowned curiously towards Hermione. "What'd you give him?"

"Nothing," Hermione said dismissively. Harry would have a panic attack if he learned that they had cast a talking Patronus. She and Ron shared a secret smile. "Absolutely nothing."

"Oh." Harry suddenly scrunched up his face in disgust as he made an incorrect, but highly probable assumption about what Hermione could have possibly given Ron for his birthday. "Oh, eugh."

"Huh--wha--oh, no!" Ron hastened to correct Harry, looking furtively at Hermione who had pressed her lips together, shaking with laughter. "No, no, no--I didn't!"

Under other circumstances, Hermione would have been insulted that Ron was so adamant about denying Harry's claim, but she knew better now. When they finally did kiss, he wouldn't be denying anything. She pressed her lips together even tighter as she imagined just when and where that moment may come. Assume away, Harry, she thought contentedly. Sooner or later, he was finally going to be correct.


Quote is from Make This Go On Forever, Snow Patrol