A Long Way from Home

Excerpt from Chapter VIII:

“And you think it’ll be safe for the two of you to return home?” Ron replied.

Harry just shrugged. “We’ll check the wards first, of course and if anything is wrong, we’ll return here.”

It was obvious to Hermione that absolutely no one, including herself, agreed with this, but she didn’t really feel like arguing at this moment. Additional plans were made and promises given to notify everyone if anything new was discovered before they all separated for the night.

Harry led Hermione silently from the kitchen into the back garden. He clasped their hands together and apparated them to the edge of Hogsmeade. With a single motion, he asked her to remain silent as they began creeping through the darkened streets towards their home.

With a simple ward-detecting charm, Harry quickly saw that something was amiss at their house. His wand had touched the edge of the ward as he’d whispered the detection charm and a violent shudder had coursed through the holly. He whispered yet another charm and a faint, teal aura glowed around the house. He carefully scanned the wards, checking for a breach and took in a sharp breath when he saw a violet tear in the magical protections. Someone had obviously broken through, but the grounds surrounding the cottage were silent.

Hermione cast several charms of her own and they quickly realized that no one was present in their home. Harry waved her back to a safer distance and began to move quickly towards the front door. He opened the door and slinked through the entryway, not turning on any lights and doing his best to avoid making any noise. There was a strange rustling noise coming from the living room and he held his breath as he entered the dark room.

A single beam of moonlight was shining almost directly on to the fireplace mantle. Pinned to the wood was a cutout from the Daily Prophet and it was obviously the source of the strange rustling noise. A draft from the fireplace was pushing the paper back and forth and Harry quickly crossed the room to see what the page contained.

It was an article from the Prophet that had come out just the day before. A Healer at St. Mungo’s had directly credited Hermione with saving the life of one of the injured from the explosion in Diagon Alley. At the top of the page was a picture of Hermione at the scene of the explosion. All around her, people were bustling, but the gray and white figure was completely still. The pin used to affix that paper to the mantle had been driven right through the heart of the Hermione in the photo, rendering her lifeless. Harry peered at the gruesome photo and let his eyes trail down to the hurried script across the caption.

The debt must be paid.

Chapter IX

Hermione slammed a drawer of her roll top desk with impressive panache. A close look at her calendar revealed that she had been trapped in this forsaken castle for 49 days and frankly, she was sick of the sight of it. Idyllwild Castle was beautiful, to be sure, but it wasn’t her quiet, comfortable house in Hogsmeade, or her safe little cottage in Scotland. This wasn’t home for her, but she was halted by the thought that she wasn’t sure what was home anymore. Harry had been her home, hadn’t he? Her time in Scotland had felt like some strange extended vacation, for since she had been eleven years old, her home had been wherever Harry was. Harry wasn’t bodily present now and had barely contacted her during their separation.

She was beginning to feel a fool for having been stuck inside this castle for so long. Harry Potter wasn’t her guardian, or even her lover. He had summarily dumped her at the castle, mumbling nonsense about keeping her safe before disappearing completely. She’d received numerous owls, few from him, all magically concealed and bearing news from the wizarding world. There had been daily deliveries of the Prophet as well as notes from her friends and family.

The only person that had visited had been Ginny. She had avoided discussing Harry with Hermione, opting instead to tell her the latest about her boyfriend. Whatever misgivings Hermione may have had about Harry’s doubts about the man were no longer just that. She secretly despised the perfection of the auburn-haired “dream man” and she was dreadfully jealous of everything Ginny told her. Harry had completely avoided any sort of personal discussion in his few letters. The only hint of anything but friendship was today’s post-script pleading that she remain in the castle and stay safe. He would be coming to see her in just two days, on February 14th. She was angered at herself for wondering if he was aware of the significance of the date.

Tugging her hand through her hair, Hermione pulled her gaze away from the tapestry-adorned wall and looked down to her notes. Neatly arranged on the table lay various pages, containing images and articles duplicated from the Daily Prophet, all surrounded by her careful and complete notes: dates, names, locations and small maps, transcribed references to ancient wizarding buildings and obscure government offices. She had the taste of a theory on her tongue and knew that it was just outside of her reach. She needed a link or a trigger. Inspiration really.

In frustration, she pushed her chair back from the table and stood to survey the room. It surely wouldn’t come from anything in here. There was nothing cozy about this room, nothing familiar about its protective walls. She had been here countless times, but felt no sense of belonging. It was merely a safe place to meet and a convenient place to lodge.

She turned from her desk and headed out of the study. Two doors down the hall were her personal quarters and in the opposite direction were the Order room, which was depressingly empty, and the other common areas of the castle. She paused a moment and inhaled the sticky sweet scent of a hot August day, still unused to the enchantment over the castle that altered the seasons. The charmed windows opposite her displayed a bright golden day and an endless field of gently waving barley. She was saddened to remember a Muggle song her mother used to play all the time, by that singer called Sting, and felt a pang of loneliness in her gut. Harry had shown such indifference to her pleadings to see him, or to go to the Burrow for a bit. He had blatantly ignored her imploring questions of his wellbeing. The memory of her declaration of love for him had soured and left her embarrassed for her moments of weakness. She had succumbed to the romance, the sweetness of the idea of being in love with Harry and she had spent the past 49 days punishing herself for it.

A low chiming noise alerted her that someone had entered the main foyer. Knowing that it would be Ginny, but almost hoping that it wasn’t, she headed down the long hall to greet her friend. When she finally came into view, Ginny’s arms were loaded down with blue irises, wrapped in some sort of cloth. Hermione watched as she hefted them to her left side and waved at her. Returning the wave, Hermione smiled and inwardly admonished herself for her momentary dread of this visit.

“I was asked to deliver these to you,” she said as she handed over the armful of flowers. Hermione instinctively bent her head and sniffed the closest flower, reveling momentarily in their slight fragrance.

“They’re lovely,” Hermione replied, carefully avoiding the subject of the sender of the bouquet.

“They’re from Harry,” Ginny prompted, smiling tightly at Hermione.

Hermione sighed and turned to lay them down gently on the hall table. She said nothing and looked intently at the rich cherry wood of the table top.

“You know he just wants to keep you safe, Hermione. I know it’s miserable in here, but he can’t be blamed for his paranoia, not after the break-in and that creepy picture.”

“I know,” Hermione said as she fingered one of the irises gently. “Any other news? How are Ron and Andie?” she said quickly, turning around once again to look at Ginny.

Ginny shrugged. “As well as can be expected. Ron’s taken a leave of absence to work with Harry and Andie is doing well with her classes. She said your mum has been helping her around the house, and can even put weight on her leg now.”

Hermione let out a breath. “He said I couldn’t even go visit her.”

Ginny placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Why don’t I bring her along tomorrow? I think I’ve figured out a way to do it safely.”

“Really?” Hermione asked, brightening.

“Absolutely. But you must make me a deal first. I’m going to break you out of here; come to Paris tonight, we’ll go to the Musée. Harry will never know.”

“What happened to your understanding of his paranoia?”

“I understand it, but I don’t condone it. You’re a grown witch and can take care of yourself. You’ll come to my flat and we’ll go right to the Musée. It’ll be closed down for the night and perfectly safe. Our wards are some of the best in the world.”

After some hesitation, Hermione agreed. Harry’s flowers had angered her further and she had decided, in the few minutes since Ginny had arrived, that she was done living by his rules. Ginny seemed surprised and laughed excitedly.

“You’ll really come along? Have you ever been?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to go. Le musée du Sorcière is supposed to be one of the most enchanting buildings in the wizarding world.”

“I see you’ve read our brochure,” Ginny quipped. “I’d love to stay, but I’m afraid I only came by for just a few moments. I’ll meet you right back here at eight o’clock, dress comfortably and bring a cloak. I’m owed a favor and we may be able to go grab a late dinner.”

Hermione was delighted by Ginny’s chatter as her friend wrapped an ebony cloak around her thin shoulders. With a few deft movements of her hands, her dark red hair had fallen into place, just skimming her cloak. She smiled grandly.

“You promise you’ll come? Really?”

“You’ve got me too excited now; I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Hermione replied, returning the smile and holding open the door of the castle.

“Lovely,” Ginny said before slipping through the door and letting it shut softly behind her.

Hermione felt a nervous little twitter in her stomach after Ginny was out of sight. Truth be told, the picture in the paper, when she had eventually seen it, had horrified her. Initially, she had been somewhat relieved to be in a secure place, but when she had realized Harry didn’t intend to join her, her resentment and anger had taken hold.

Now, she was feeling slightly lightheaded. She would leave this castle and enjoy her night out. She was a full-grown witch and had shown on multiple occasions that she could more than take care of herself. She felt like a captive, or even worse, some damsel locked in the tower. She was an intelligent witch, was halfway to publishing a paper about magical theory. She was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, outside of the shadow of Harry Potter.

She took a deep breath and headed back to her quarters to get ready for her evening. In a few minutes, she was closing the heavy wooden door behind her and surveying the room carefully. Her main room was a simple, yet elegant sitting area that reminded of her of the Gryffindor common room. There were comfortable chairs and cushions scattered throughout the room. There was a bedroom off of the lounge and through a set of double doors to the left were a large bathroom and a walk-in closet big enough to fit a double bed. On the opposite wall from the hallway was another set of doors, leading out to a solarium and terrace. Her private reading collection was stored in the small solarium – its delivery marked the first time in several weeks she hadn’t been angry with Harry. A desk in the corner of the lounge housed her work on the theory, untouched since before the holidays.

She walked across the room, stepping from her shoes and removing her button-down white shirt, revealing a white camisole underneath. With a flick of her wand as she reached the bathroom, the large tub in the middle of the room began to fill with perfectly warmed water and mountains of lavender bubbles. She removed the rest of her clothing and wound her long curls to the top of her head before stepping into the hot water. She bathed and rested in the water for awhile before stepping into her closet to pick her clothes for the evening. She selected a pair of straight-legged black slacks and grabbed a pair of high-heeled black leather boots. A few seconds more of consideration garnered a blousy shirt, with bits of purple and black scattered through its pattern. She picked a set of deep plum robes to wear over the ensemble and cast a cushioning charm on the shoes to make them more museum-appropriate. She wondered if her outfit was a bit overdone, but it was her first time out in far too long.

True to her word, Ginny arrived promptly at eight, the chimes notifying Hermione of her arrival. Hermione picked a black winter cloak from her closet and tied it around her shoulders as she swished down the hallway. She tucked her wand into a long pocket and followed Ginny outside of the castle.

Ginny linked her arm to Hermione’s and held out a broken slide-rule. Hermione grasped the other end of it and closed her eyes briefly as the familiar hook took hold…

They came to a stop inside a loft apartment. Softly glimmering moonlight streamed through the windows, highlighting an amazing view over Paris. Hermione took in a deep breath as she spotted the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre. She grinned as she picked out long-adored spots in one of her favorite cities. She had visited it once more with her parents, before seventh year and had fallen in love all over again. For some reason, she hadn’t yet been to visit Ginny.

“This is just amazing,” she breathed, looking out over the sprawling city. The height of the building and the skillfully designed windows gave her the feeling of floating over the sprawling city, with thousands of lights twinkling below. She sighed happily and strained her eyes trying to take in everything at once.

“I could never go back to London after this,” Ginny said quietly as she joined Hermione at the windows. “Who could?”

“England will always be home,” Hermione replied, “but it never hurts to visit Paris as frequently as possible.”

Ginny’s tinkling laugh echoed in the large loft. “Are you ready to go?”

Hermione tore her gaze from the view below her and nodded. They went out into a hallway that housed a private lift and made their way to the ground level of the building. Hermione took in a deep breath as they exited onto the sidewalk. It was cold and snowing lightly, magnifying all of the glittering lights. The Musée was a brief walk from Ginny’s home and they were shadowed by a guard from the staff, cementing Hermione’s feelings of safety and wellbeing in the foreign city.

An ancient stone edifice rose in front of them, looking dreary and abandoned to muggle eyes. Hermione, on the other hand, saw regal columns and polished marble stairs leading up to the heavy glass doors of the largest wizarding museum in the world. Contained within its walls were famous paintings, ancient artifacts and obscure grimoires. It housed an advanced school for the study of magic, accepting less than twenty-five new students to conduct research each year. Offered daily were lessons and lectures, on every topic from ancient magical geography to cooking. Ginny had been responsible for introducing an exhibit hall, which changed its focus every three or four months. A sign posted on the door announced that the exhibit was on Magical Britain, a subject obviously very close to Hermione’s heart.

As it was closed for the night, the lobby of the museum was empty and bathed in pale light from the security torches along the walls. Ginny waved her wand at some sort of turnstile and they passed through the main gallery. It was a long room, stretching so far into the darkness that Hermione couldn’t even see its end. Ginny flicked her wand again and soft light flared up around the room, allowing her to better take in her surroundings. On either wall running the length of the room were a collection of paintings and prints ranging from oversized portraits to tiny, postcard sized landscapes. Each had some magical element to it, either the paintings moved or the images changed, rendering a 360° view of a landscape. She was enchanted by a small painting that displayed a seaside village, the background slowly dissolving into a night-time setting. Lights came on the little dwellings and pinpricks of starlight appeared in the velvety blackness of the night sky. A large canvas displayed a solitary witch in a thatched cottage, waving her wand over a tall cauldron bubbling with some devilish looking, blood-red liquid. When Hermione’s eyes fell on the witch’s face, the painted figure gave her a stony glare. A little ripple of fright shuddered through her back, delighting her.

“This is breathtaking,” she said in an awe-filled whisper. “I can’t believe you come through here everyday.”

“This is nothing, I promise you. Come on, we’ll do a proper tour and start at the top.”

Ginny led her over to a bank of lifts and they ascended to the sixth floor of the building. The buffed gold doors of the lift slid open to reveal another long gallery, this one housing the traveling exhibit.

A large overhead banner proclaimed the name of the exhibit, “A History of British Magic.”

“It’s not a very good name for an exhibit, but alas, I don’t have control over every detail,” Ginny said, with a trace of annoyance in her voice.

Hermione shrugged and immediately turned her attention to a large map posted on the wall. Purple glittering dots shimmered over its surface and she touched a finger to one of them in Scotland.

Gold writing materialized in front of her, scrolling through an explanation.

“The Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry is one of the oldest wizarding establishments in Britain. There are four houses…”

“That’s fantastic,” Hermione said. “I love how this works.”

“It’s a new type of map designed by Ty’s company. They’re hoping to make books a little more interactive, like you can touch a word in the index and it takes you right to that page in the book.”

“Sounds like Tynan has spent time around muggle computers,” Hermione replied as she selected a dot in southern England.

“Avebury is home to a large stone henge and several stone circles. It is home to one of the largest wizarding libraries in the world, outside of Hogwarts and this museum. The stone structures are similar to, though older than, Stonehenge, located only 20 miles south of Avebury. Both properties are owned by the National Trust.”

Hermione nodded satisfactorily.

“Did you hear about the break-in at the National Trust?” Ginny asked her, breaking through Hermione’s silence.

“Of course. All of the records regarding Avebury and Stonehenge were taken and the muggle government is in a tizzy.”

“Didn’t you find the story a bit strange?” Ginny replied, looking carefully at Hermione.

Hermione searched Ginny’s gaze for a clue about this line of questioning before nodding her head slowly. She had, in fact, been researching the incident since its occurrence on January the 18th. She had been attempting to draw connections between it and a few other odd break-ins. “Yes, there are some odd circumstances surrounding it. There were no signs of forced entry and no fingerprints found anywhere. In fact, every reference to the two sites is completely gone. Why?”

Ginny shrugged. “I heard Mum talking about it the other day and just wondered your opinion. You know that I don’t get included in much Order business, usually only research projects.”

Hermione winced and nodded. She had often partnered with Ginny on Order research and recalled that Ginny had become very skilled at sifting through and cataloguing huge amounts of information, which undoubtedly made her very good at her job. “I feel a bit out of the loop on this one as well. Admittedly, the news about the Avebury files had me a bit shaken. I spent some time there during that year…” she trailed off, unsure of how much she should say.

Ginny’s eyebrows rose. “Do you have a theory about the break-ins?”

“Nothing cohesive and nothing I’d really like to discuss…in public,” she finished, her excuse sounding lame even to her own ears.

Ginny’s lips tightened and she nodded her head curtly. They continued down the gallery, stopping in an exhibit about ancient magical sites. Surrounding them were scale versions of the sites and Hermione took her time to explore each one, letting her thoughts mull over the happenings of the past few weeks.

On Boxing Day, her first full day at Idyllwild, the Ministry had been broken into. There were no records of disturbances in the security wards and nothing had been taken. They only knew of the break-in because of the strange, new magical devices called See-It-Alls, which recorded the visual events of a given area to a Pensieve, much like a muggle security camera. It showed three cloaked figures enter the Records office in the Department of Mysteries. Files were ransacked and duplicated, but the Ministry was still trying to figure out what had been copied.

Just a couple of weeks later, on the 18th, the National Trust incident had occurred and just a few days beyond that, another magical records office had been ransacked in Cumbria. She was hedging her bets on what exactly these strange cloaked figures were after, but she gathered that they had taken information about the stone circles she was looking at right now. Avebury held a special place in her heart, as she had learned a great deal in its library and had been stunned by the magic that flowed through its stone circles.

She and Professor McGonagall had worked tirelessly through the night in the circles and she had learned to harness the power that flowed there. It was that night that she had first learned of the spell that would ultimately defeat Voldemort. She had suspected in the time since that Ron and Harry had each been somewhere else, doing something similar, but to this day she knew no specifics.

The other piece of the puzzle was stranger still. Beginning just twelve days ago, there had been strange activities at Corfe Castle an, overall, completely unimportant building in British magical history. There was nothing spectacular about it and it had been home to strictly muggle families since its conception. However, nearly two weeks ago the buildings had completely self-destructed and the villagers in the surrounding environs had been leaving the area in droves. There was no known reason for any of it and upon being questioned the muggle villagers replied that they had never even heard of such a place. The only reason there was any Ministry investigation whatsoever were the magical signatures present at the site.

Yes, yes, strange happenings were afoot in the wizarding world and once again, Harry Potter was right at the center of it, leading nightly raids and information gathering missions to find out what was happening. This time, however, he had left her sequestered away in a castle, keeping her at arm’s length and safely out of harm’s way.

Hermione sighed audibly and felt Ginny’s arm link through her own.

“Come on, we’ll finish our short tour and I’ll take you out to dinner. I want you to tell me more about Avebury.”

“Alright,” Hermione responded quietly and allowed herself to be led through the museum.

Nearly two hours later, they had thoroughly explored the museum and Hermione was in a positively delightful mood. She had adored the magical artwork and shared several laughs with Ginny over the more bizarre wizard fashions of bygone days. The artifacts had all been fascinating and she had enjoyed matching the information in her head to the physical object in front of her. Now, after a short walk through Paris, they were seated in a small café and were once again discussing the stone circles.

“You mean, they used the stone circles to create new magic?” Ginny asked as she sipped a small cup full of black espresso.

Hermione nodded as she sipped her frothy coffee. “Yes, at the time, witches and wizards weren’t as constrained as they are now. They traveled frequently and had elaborate rituals in these stone circles. The use of magic itself was just very different, but the big three circles were Avebury, Stonehenge, and Castlerigg, hence the worry over what information was taken in the break-ins. Stonehenge was a primary location for healing rituals, as well as celebratory rituals – handfastings, namings and the like. Castlerigg was used for justice-type rituals. Some of our earliest trials were held there and they regularly employed complex rituals and potions to bring about true testimonies from witnesses. It was like some sort of ancient courtroom…”

Ginny was giggling but Hermione’s head had started to spin. Those three sites… could it be possible that it tied in so closely to the rituals that she, Harry and Ron had undergone so long ago? When she had been at Avebury, had they been visiting those other circles?

Feeling as if she had found another solid lead to work on, she abruptly stood from the table.

“I think I need to get home, Ginny.”

“Is everything alright?” Ginny asked.

“Yes, I just need to get back to work.”

Ginny seemed surprised, but did not question her friend any further. She left some bank notes on the table and they hustled from the restaurant, walking quickly back to Ginny’s flat.

In a short time, Hermione was portkeying back to Idyllwild, its windows lit welcomingly. She entered the main hall and tugged her heavy cloak and robes from her shoulders, intending to dump them in her room before resuming her research. At the door however, she stopped, feeling the hairs on her neck beginning to rise. She slowed her footsteps and held her wand ready at her side as she opened the door quietly.

She caught the light reflecting off a pair of spectacles only momentarily before a burst of light shot towards the ceiling. The entire room was blanketed in a soft, orange light and Hermione instantly saw Harry sitting in an overstuffed chair in the middle of the room.

He was glaring at her angrily, she noticed, which caused her mood to shift instantly. She had been prepared to write him an owl, letting him know what she was thinking, but the look on his face brooked no other conversation than the one they were about to have.

“Well, I’m surprised to see you here, especially two days earlier than planned,” she said, hoping in vain to steer the conversation.

“Where were you?” he ground out slowly, as he blatantly ignored her question.

“I was with Ginny,” she replied, attempting to keep her words even and neutral.

“I thought I told you not to leave the castle.” She noticed that his voice remained even, but his eyes were wild. The emerald irises flared with anger and fear, but of what?

“Yes, I suppose you did, but I wasn’t under the impression that you had any sort of right to dictate my behavior,” she replied, holding her head high and pointing her chin out ever so slightly. She felt the beginnings of a great temper flaring in her abdomen and pressed her lips together to keep herself from saying any more than was absolutely necessary.

Harry reddened and stammered, “You know that isn’t what I meant. I asked you to stay here, Hermione, so that you would be safe. Do you know what it was like to come here tonight, to find you missing and with no clue as to your whereabouts?”

“Actually, yes. I know exactly what that feels like Harry. As you’ll recall, it was three days before I found out you’d left of your own will so many years ago. I was insane, Harry, so don’t even think that I don’t know exactly how it feels.”

“Then how could you do this? Do you have any idea what they want to do to you? How dangerous it is for you out there?”

“That is such bullshit and you know it,” she spat out, her own choice of language surprising her. “You never minded putting me in danger’s path before, why does it matter now?”

“You know why,” he said quickly as he stood from the armchair and crossed the room to her. He was within touching distance, but kept his arms rigidly at his sides.

“No, I don’t think I do.”

His face fell as he realized the meaning of her words. “Hermione, you know that I love-“

“Stop right there. I don’t want to hear that from you, not now and not ever again. It was a lie, Harry. We were caught up in the moment, caught up in that damned potion. If you really loved me, if you really believed that, you never would have let me out of arm’s reach. You deserted me-“ her voice broke and her chest hitched with unbidden sobs. Tears quickly swelled in her eyes and she was surprised at the pang of hurt in her chest.

Harry seemed to have no reply, but she could see his eyes glistening in the orange light. He looked at her for a long moment before turning away and grabbing his cloak from the chair. He pushed past her towards the door and turned back only briefly.

“I ask that you please stay here, for your safety Hermione, but you don’t have to.”

He closed the door without any other words and the bang of the heavy door against the word frame reverberated in her chest. She sobbed once before dropping down onto her bed and covering her faces with her hands, letting her hot tears flow freely.

She awoke the next morning feeling stuffy and unable to breathe properly. One of the house elves brought her a breakfast tray and after only being able to drink the tea, she curled against her pillows again and waited for sleep to come again.

Once she’d awoken several hours later, she ambled about the house in a daze. Her own words echoed in her mind, coupled with the broken-hearted look on Harry’s face. There was two letters waiting for her on the table, one from Ron, full of his usual updates and the other from Ginny, explaining that she would bring Carole by for brunch.

Hermione drifted to the library and eventually wrote down her observations from the day before, but she was unable to do much else. After staring blankly at the parchment for nearly thirty minutes, she had gone back to bed for the night.

“Hello? Hermione?” a pair of voices reached her through the fog of dreams and she started. It took her several seconds to remember that Ginny and her mum had dropped by for the day and she quickly jumped out of bed. She threw a dressing gown over her pajamas and smoothed her hair down before heading into the hallway.

“Good morning!” she said, attempting to plaster a cheerful smile across her face. “I must have overslept. Hello, mum, Gin, how was your trip?” she chattered, leaning over to kiss her mother’s cheek and to loosely hug Ginny.

“Completely uneventful,” Carole replied. “How are you feeling dear?”

Hermione gave Ginny a strange look and the other girl shrugged, seemingly confused. She turned her attention back to her mother. “I’m fine, why?”

“You just look tired. When was the last time you ate?”

Hermione knew there was a guilty look splashed across her face, for her mother just shook her head.

“I’ll make breakfast, if you’d be so kind as to direct me to the kitchen, Ginevra.”

“I have a better idea,” Ginny said, speaking for the first time. “You stay here and make yourself comfortable. I’ll pop out and get some coffees and pastries. Hermione, you’d like a double mocha right? Carole, do you prefer coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please,” Carole replied, smiling. “And if you can manage, pick up some raspberry scones.”

Ginny nodded and left them standing in the hallway, moving so quickly out the door that Hermione barely registered the conversation that had just occurred.

“That was strange,” Hermione said, looking at the spot where Ginny had just been.

“She told me that you left abruptly from Paris the other night. Your Harry has been moping around the Burrow since Thursday and I assume that in some weird, Harry-and-Hermione sort of way, these two things are somehow connected. She knew that I wanted to have a word with you.”

Hermione was jarred by this revelation and simply turned to head back to her quarters, motioning her mother to follow. They settled opposite one another, Carole moving to a comfortable sofa so that she could stretch out her leg, which was still in a brace, and Hermione curled up in the armchair Harry had occupied.

“How’s your leg, Mum? Are you sure you’re comfortable?”

Carole waved her hand dismissively. “We’re not here to talk about me, but since you asked, it feels fine. There’s some sort of pain charm on this brace. Now, tell me what happened.”

Hermione hesitated briefly, but suddenly, she was spilling her whole story. She started at the beginning, when she and Harry had first started their little dance around each other. She talked about Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. She described her feelings of the past several weeks and let her story culminate in the events of the other night. As she talked, her mother just sat and listened intently, prodding her forward occasionally and giving affirmative or negative replies only when needed. The words flowed out and as she talked, she felt smaller and more drawn in, realizing just how depressed and lonely she had been. When she finished, she didn’t feel lighter or better, but instead felt only tired and beaten.

Carole merely frowned and held her arms out to her daughter, not speaking as Hermione rose from the floor and curled into her mother’s embrace. She cried loudly, amazed at the tears spilling from her eyes. It had been years since she’d cried so hard and she felt it had been years since she had been so well understood by another person. Her mother murmured comfortingly and held her as if she were a child again.

Finally, Hermione pulled away. “What do I do, Mum?”

“I can’t answer that for you, you know that. I can only tell you to do what you feel is right.”

“I don’t know what’s right anymore, Mum. I feel so lost. My life used to have structure and reason, logic even. Now, I don’t even know what to do with myself on a daily basis. I’ve continued work on my paper, but then what do I do with the whole rest of my life?”

“Hermione, you mustn’t fool yourself; your life did not use to have structure and reason. You hid in that little cottage, away from your friends and family and buried your head and heart in a theory. I’m proud of the work you did, love, but you didn’t have a life outside of it and your little house by the sea. You ran away from your life, and while I can’t say that I blame you on that particular occasion, you’re doing the same thing now. This crying and moping about is just you refusing to deal with the situation with Harry,” Carole stated, with sternness to her voice that Hermione hadn’t heard since she was much younger. Her mother’s blue eyes were simultaneously blazing and icy as she stared at her daughter.

“Mother!” Hermione cried, shocked at her mother’s words.

“Well, it’s true, Hermione! I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself. You need to sit down and think hard about what you want from your life and then you need to figure out how to accomplish it. This thing with Harry will blow over. You’re young and you’re in love, whether you believe it now or not. Figure that out or figure out the other thing, but stop hiding from everything that makes you uncomfortable. You have been locked up in this castle for far too long and it isn’t because Harry asked you to stay here.”

Hermione was simply too stunned to even reply. Her mother was usually so kind and tolerant, but every once in a while, she would call Hermione out and force her to reexamine her actions. She seemed to be doing it quite frequently, lately.

“Now, Ginny will return soon with our breakfast, so take your bath and come out to that big parlor at the end of the hall. I think we can eat in there.”

“Yes mum,” she answered once she had found her voice. She waited until the door had closed behind Carole before heading into her bathroom, still trying to mentally process everything her mother had said. As she stepped into the hot shower, she waited for the tears to come, but they didn’t. Instead, her mind worked quickly, overtaking the brutal emotions of her heart and allowed her to look at her situation from a more logical perspective. Her mother, of course, was completely right and to make it worse, about everything. Sighing, Hermione viciously scrubbed at her hair until a rich lather had worked up and finished the rest of her shower in a flurry of thoughts. Once clean, she donned a pair of jeans and a thick, soft black sweater. She analyzed her hair briefly in the mirror and decided it wasn’t worth fussing with before running a brush through it, not caring how bushy it got.

Ginny and Carole had prepared a lavish spread by the time she had finished showering. The large and airy sitting room had been rearranged to accommodate them and Hermione noticed that the tall windows looked out over a summertime lake. She smiled despite herself as she watched a family of ducks skirt the edge of the shallow water. One by one, they launched into the water and were off swimming in no time. She turned from the windows and saw that a circular table had been moved to the middle of the room and was covered with a garnet, velvety tablecloth. The old, heavy table was laden with sweet breakfast foods, more of which Ginny was lifting from an oversized hamper.

“Everything looked so good and I figured we deserved to be naughty just this once. We’ve got some American girls working on an exhibit with us right now and they constantly talk about dieting. It makes me want to eat everything in sight just to be spiteful.”

“Does the plan work as well if they aren’t here to see it?” Hermione asked, laughing. She sat opposite her mother and began passing around their various drinks.

“Of course. I’ll always have the memory of these amazing scones to get me through the conversations about cabbage soup,” Ginny replied as she spread thick, clotted cream over the aforementioned pastry.

Hermione and Carole both laughed loudly as they passed around various baskets and bowls. Hermione helped herself to a plate full of pastries and fruit salad and smiled as she stirred her drink, enjoying the light-hearted atmosphere. Her mother was talking animatedly about some women she used to work with and Ginny was giggling in response. They seemed comfortable together and she realized that Ginny had probably spent a great deal of time at the Burrow recently. She pushed back the feelings of envy and turned her attention back to her food.

Before long, they had each devoured all they could eat and were busy clearing everything away. By her watch, Hermione saw that it was nearly one o’clock. She handed a stack of dishes to one of the hovering house elves, all of whom were distinctly upset by the three witches cleaning after their own meal.

After cleaning up, they all settled into comfortable chairs and began discussing lazily various topics before the conversation veered to Ginny’s plans for the evening.

“It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I did a little bit of snooping and found two international-travel portkeys in his sock drawer. The package date is for today.”

“Any ideas where you’re going?” Hermione asked, attempting to drum up some real interest in the topic. For the sixth year running, her Valentine’s Day would be completely uneventful, but Ginny was genuinely excited.

“I have no idea, but that’s okay. I have no doubt it will be some place wonderful,” Ginny replied, grinning.

Carole patted Ginny’s hand and nodded, “Absolutely it will be. It’s obvious that Ty cares about you very much – he was just so sweet at Christmas.”

At this, Ginny checked her own watch and sighed. “I hate to cut this short, Hermione, but we really ought to get going. I had to call in a favor to change the portkey’s destination, but it will only last until three this afternoon.”

“A favor? I thought Harry was the only one who could change-“ She stopped short when Ginny gave her a pointed look. Hermione sighed and stood up to wish her mother goodbye.

“I’ll be heading home in a week,” Carole said soothingly. “You could come stay with me for awhile if you like.”

“I’d like that, Mum,” Hermione replied as she hugged her mother tightly.

“We’re off,” Ginny said as she too hugged Hermione. “Be good.”

Just as Ginny released her, there was a large bang from the entrance hall, followed by the sound of the door opening. All at once, there were several voices pushing into the room, followed quickly by people. Harry was at the head of the group, trying to talk and quiet everyone at the same time. His glance slid over the three women gathered in the room before he held his fingers to his lips and whistled loudly.

“We can’t begin discussion until everyone has arrived. Please begin your usual duties at this time and expect an update within the hour.” He waved them all away and turned to Hermione, strain and stress etched in every feature.

“I need you,” he said quietly and held out his hand.

Their past conversation slipped away from her and she grasped his hand, allowing herself to be pulled from the room. He led her back to her private quarters and slammed the door before turning to face her.

“Harry, what’s-“

He held up a hand to stop her and shook his head slightly. “Let me talk first, okay? I have some things I need to say to you.”

She clamped her mouth shut and nodded her head, trying in vain to discern what this was about just by looking at his eyes.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, but I regret it. You’re right, you know, I’ve always needed you at my side and this time isn’t any different. I’ve been floundering for weeks without you, feeling like I can’t tell my head from my arse. I need you. I can’t do this without you and I am so very sorry for leaving you here and keeping you out of everything.”

His words stunned her momentarily before her brain caught up with everything he had said. She blinked rapidly for a moment before looking at him questioningly. “Harry, do you need me because you’re stumped by some problem? Or do you need me because you love me and want me by your side?”

His lips tightened as she caught an emotion, finally, in his gaze: guilt.

She nodded once, “I see.”

“No, no, please don’t take this the wrong way. I do love you, Hermione, I do, but that’s not why I’m sorry, because despite that, you’re still my best friend. You’re still the person that I need by my side during times like this and it has nothing to do with whether or not I’m in love with you. You are a part of me, a part of this whole thing and I can’t move forward without you. Not after today.”

“What do you mean not after today?” she asked, becoming more confused than angry.

“There was another attack,” he said softly, dragging his hand back through his hair. “In Hogsmeade.”

Hermione gasped and clasped her hands to her mouth. “What about Ron and Andie? Where are they?”

“Andie is gone. And so are several students. They’ve been taken and I have no idea where. Can’t you see that I need you?”

She sighed, attempting to shove back her anger and failing. “Yes, Harry, I can see that you need me to do this with you and I can’t believe that you would use Andie’s disappearance as a way to tell me that. I’m ashamed of you, but I will absolutely help because of my love for Ron,” she said quietly, her voice nearly a hiss.

She glared at him before continuing on, “Don’t for one moment think that it has anything to do with whether or not I’m in love with you. I stand by what I said earlier, Harry Potter. Everything I said that night at the Burrow was a mistake and it’s not one I plan on repeating. ”

His shoulders sagged, but he didn’t push her any further. He merely nodded and moved past her to open the door. He held it open for her and followed her back to the meeting room, without ever once looking at her directly.

She felt strangely deflated and sad as they moved down the hallway. She was keenly aware of his presence and was haunted by her own words echoing through her own mind. She was still furious, but her statement to Harry rang hollow. She couldn’t shake the feeling of having just slammed a door in her own face. Taking a deep breath, she paused before entering the room and turned back to face Harry.

“You and Ron are my best friends in the whole world Harry, and there’s nothing we can’t do when we work together.”

He nodded and finally looked at her fully. “I know that Hermione.”

She gave him a strange, pained little smile before opening the door to the meeting room.

“Hermione!” A voice called out to her almost immediately. She spotted tall Ron making his way towards her and she sensed more than saw Harry melt away from her into the background. It was obvious that the number of people in the room had nearly doubled since she and Harry had had their talk, but her gaze was focused solely on her other best friend of thirteen years.

“Hermione,” Ron said again quietly, before his face fell. His robes were torn and his face was streaked with dirt and what looked like blood. He was very obviously attempting not to cry and her heart broke just to see him. She held her arms out and he gathered her up into a tight hug, bending down to put his head on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Ron,” she said softly, fighting her own tears. She had watched Ron grow from a very sweet and somewhat silly young boy into a full-fledged, very serious and world-weary man. He had retained his essential sweetness, but she felt sometimes as if he was bearing a very heavy cross.

He clung to her for a few moments longer before stepping back and looking down at her.

“We’ll find her, Ron. I promise.”

“I know.”

She nodded and took his hand, leading him to the antechamber where the more senior members of the group had met several weeks prior. The others were waiting; Molly, Arthur, Remus, Tonks, Professor McGonagall and Harry were seated around a large table, all of them somber, silent and pensive. Despite her growing panic over the severity of the situation, Hermione instantly felt a strange sense of comfort at being in this room with these people. The other members of the Order had been invaluable during the war and she didn’t doubt their loyalty, but there was something oddly familiar about this group sitting together and planning their next moves, just as they had in the last war. They would succeed, for even in the darkest hours they had all shared, there had always been hope and she didn’t sense any faltering of that now.

Harry cleared his throat as Hermione and Ron took the last empty seats at the table. He looked at Ron for a long moment before beginning to speak.

“At this time, we know very little about what’s happened in Hogsmeade. Eight children were kidnapped along with Andie, and at this point we’re not entirely sure of the connection. There are rumors circulating that other places suffered similar attacks, but at this time we are unsure of the truth to these rumors. Charlie and Bill Weasley are working with select, trusted members of the Ministry to find out what’s going on across Britain.”

“Harry, if I may?” Remus said quietly, lifting his head to look solemnly at everyone in the room.

Harry nodded and motioned for Remus to continue.

Lupin shifted uncomfortably before receiving a comforting squeeze on the shoulder from his wife. “I’ve been contacted, Harry.”

“Contacted?”

“Yes, after the last war, there was some informal werewolf organization, in an attempt to make sure what happened with Fenrir and the others wouldn’t happen again. I received a message today that the organization has been approached by a secret group, asking if it would be possible to exchange a few favors.”

Hermione felt Harry sit up straighter next to her. “What’s the decision?”

“They’re still undecided, as they have been largely unsuccessful in any negotiations with the Ministry of Magic. At the moment, they are neutral.”

There was a beat of silence before Harry nodded and began speaking, “We need to make sure that they remain neutral. I wouldn’t push for any sort of alliance, as I have no control of the behavior of the Ministry. What about some of the other magical beings?”

“I’ll do some checking around,” Lupin replied.

“I’ll want that information before we have the main meeting. I expect that the other members will go between here and St. Mungo’s and the Ministry. I’d like as many ears out there as possible.”

“Harry, we’re going to need to start trying to figure out why these children, and Andie, were taken. I think if we can work that out, we’ll be a step closer to finding them,” Hermione said, her voice strong and businesslike.

Harry nodded his agreement. “I’d like information on each of the children. Professor, we’ll need access to their school records.”

Professor McGonagall seemed to hesitate, but eventually she too nodded in agreement.

“Hermione, I’d like you to work with Professor McGonagall, Ginny and Molly. Find out what you can about the children. We need a good lead on where to start looking for them. Ron and I will assist Lupin in communicating with the other magical creatures. Tonks, I need you to handle communication between members. We’re too scattered right now.

“Arthur, if you could work with the groups at St. Mungo’s. I’d like to get a handle on what happened and how many are injured-“

An abrupt knock interrupted Harry. Hermione saw him grimace a moment before he waved his wand and opened the door. Charlie and Bill Weasley came in, their faces drawn.

“The Ministry is a nightmare, Harry. I’ve never seen them so scattered before,” Bill stated immediately.

“What did Scrimgeour say?” Harry asked.

“Nothing. His office has gone completely silent.”

Hermione gasped, along with several others along the table. “What do you mean, gone silent? What are they doing to help with the injured? To find the missing?” Hermione asked, her voice high and troubled.

“The Aurors have been sent out, but not in full force and without any real directives. Like Bill said, it’s a nightmare. We heard rumors that St. Mungo’s is experiencing a staff shortage and the rumors for the injured range anywhere from a handful to just fewer than fifty. There were a lot of students there today, Harry.”

McGonagall stood and cleared her throat. “Harry, I need to return to my school. I’ll attempt to get the files to Ms. Granger as quickly as possible, but I’ve been away for too long.”

“Yes, Professor, I understand. Thank you for being here, and please, stay in touch.”

Professor McGonagall bowed her head slightly to the room in general as she tightened a tartan cloak over her shoulders and quickly exited through the door.

They waited in silence for several moments for Harry to speak.

“We’re going to stick to the original plans,” he said quietly. “Bill & Charlie, I’d like you to return to the Ministry and get some more news. Take several other members with you, but not Ginny; we need her here.”

The eldest Weasley sons nodded and left the room, which pitched into silence again. Hermione was the first to break the silence.

“Harry, I’ll also need all of your notes and reports regarding everything that’s happened over the past few weeks. I’d like to see if I can garner any additional clues.”

Harry nodded. “You’ll have them within two hours. Anything else?”

She shook her head and waited for someone else to speak. It was Ron who finally spoke up. “Well, what are we waiting for? Engraved invitations from the vamps?”

Hermione thought she saw a bit of a smile on his face when he spoke and she noticed that Harry was sharing a similar expression. She rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back from the table. Ron and Harry followed suit and they each looked at her. She took a deep breath and nodded, feeling strangely as if she’d come back from a very long and weary journey to this familiar place and state of affairs. Molly crossed the room and together they left, leaving the other men and Tonks standing in the room.

Ginny was waiting for them and they gravely moved to the library, gathering up spare parchment and the occasional newspaper they found laying about the main meeting room.

Hours later, long after the large group meeting, she and Ginny had bade Molly Weasley to rest for a few hours, Hermione was staring at an wide sheet of parchment, with information about the missing students organized into neat, lined columns. Ginny was sleeping with her head pillowed on her arms and was snoring very softly. The candles in the room were now dimmed and Hermione worked with the single parchment page, analyzing it for a pattern.

She heard the heavy door to the room open and blinked rapidly as her candle flame flickered. Harry walked quietly into the room and beckoned her towards him.

“What have you found out?” he whispered, his hand resting on her shoulder.

She sighed in frustration and tugged at her bushy ponytail. “I’m close, I think. I’ve narrowed down my data and I just need to analyze it for a pattern.”

“How much longer do you need? We’d like to have another talk. Arthur has joined Molly and Tonks is resting in the room across from yours. It’ll be just us three and Remus.”

“Give me thirty minutes.”

“Alright. I ran into your mum in the hallway outside. I think she’s worried that she’s being a nuisance.”

“How silly. She’s my mother and there’s plenty she’s been doing to help out tonight. Who cares if she can’t cast a- oh!” she exhaled, her voice rising slightly.

“Hermione?” Harry questioned, concern etched in his features. He squeezed her shoulder gently.

She pulled away from him without replying and grabbed up her worksheet. She lit her wand so as better to read it, her eyes scanning rapidly over the page.

“Ah! What if it’s their parents Harry? I need to get that information, I need to know about their families.”

Harry goggled at her. “You mean you don’t have that information on that little sheet of paper? There are thirty columns on there.”

She shook her head and bit her lower lip thoughtfully. “They were taken on purpose, Harry. This could be why,” she gasped again and looked up at him with a horrified expression on her face. “What if this is because of me?”

“That’s bollocks, Hermione and you know it. There’s never a true method to the madness and you know that. It’s all it is, just madness. We don’t even know for certain that was why they were taken. For now, it’s just a hunch.”

She nodded, feeling the tears well briefly in her eyes as she was reminded a fresh of all the harsh things said about her work just a few months prior. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was right about this. Taking a deep breath, she smiled tightly.

“You’re right, of course. Let’s go meet with Ron and Remus. I get the feeling that the night isn’t even half over.”

Harry held the door open for her as they left the library and he matched her stride for stride as they headed back to the small meeting room. He stopped her about half way and held her elbow, looking at her with extreme concern.

“If it’s their parents, why did they take Andie?”

This was one question she felt she knew the answer to. “I think it’s because of who she was, Harry. They were all her students, more tightly connected to her in some way. Some are star pupils; others have taken extra tutoring from her. They all knew her well.”

Harry frowned. “Can we not tell Ron that just yet?”

She cocked her head to the side and considered him for a moment before nodding her head. “If you think it’s the right thing, yes, but we mustn’t hold off for too long. He’d hate us for it, Harry, even if it is hard to hear.”

“I know,” he stated simply and turned to continue his walk down the hall. They were silent the rest of the way and Hermione listened to the noises of the bustling castle. They passed through the main meeting room and saw that there were countless pages of parchment scattered across all of the tables. Owls were swooping in and out, dropping off letters and picking up additional deliveries. Fires had been started in all three fireplaces in the room and she saw that one was being used specifically for Floo travel, while the others were being used for communication.

Ron and Remus were waiting silently in the old study. Remus looked exhausted and haggard. He seemed to have aged several years in just a few hours. Ron was still dirty and unchanged and wore a very grim expression. He looked up at them when they entered and she saw how very tired and thin he looked. Remus didn’t even look up, but instead continued to read his notes.

Hermione settled next to Ron and leaned towards him. “Have you eaten anything?” she whispered, placing her hand over his.

He shook his head wearily. “I’m fine, really.”

“Nonsense. You need to eat.”

“Hermione, I –“

She wasn’t listening, of course. In her world, Ron Weasley simply didn’t turn down food. She called out to Luna, whom she had noticed was bustling about with trays of food for those working in the room. Neville and Luna had been Order members since their Hogwarts days and usually helped with basic logistics in times like this.

“Evening, Hermione. How are you lot holding up in there?” the dreamy-eyed blonde asked.

“We’re working along. Luna, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind bringing Ron a tray? Perhaps with some soup if we have any?”

Luna nodded. “I’ll see what we can do. Be back in a few,” she said before floating off.

Hermione returned to her seat and listened as Remus and Harry conversed.

“So we’ve gained some footing with the werewolves?”

Remus nodded. “They’re planning on staying neutral, at least for the time being. It seems as if there’s very little information circulating about this group, even though they’ve begun a sort of recruiting. It matches tidily with the other intelligence we have: they’re working very hard to remain underground.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” Harry said. “If their activities up ‘til this point have been so quiet, it’s going to be harder for them to hide such a large group of people.”

Hermione, Ron and Remus all nodded in agreement.

“So what’s the next step?” Harry asked.

“We need to talk to the Blood Council,” Remus replied instantly with a look on his face as if he’d swallowed something particularly nasty.

Hermione shook her head and Ron looked at Remus oddly. “The what?”

“The Blood Council, Ron,” Hermione replied. “The vampire government, based in Romania. They exert the most control over European vampires and would be able to give us more information about their allegiance.”

“Well, let’s get to writing then. It’s nighttime after all, maybe we’ll get a quick response.”

Remus sighed. “Remember your comment about the engraved invites? The Blood Council will only communicate with outsiders in a very controlled, personal visit. We need to appear before them, on the Order’s behalf, if we are to have any chance at getting information from them. I’ll have to request a meeting.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Why are they always the ones with the most ceremony and whatnot?”

Harry and Remus shrugged in tandem.

“Have you made any headway, Hermione?” Remus asked, pushing his own notes aside.

“I think I’m on the right track, but I have a bit more information that I need. When we’re done here, I’ll write to Professor McGonagall.”

“I think we ought to call it a night. The rest of the group has worked out some sort of shift system as the Ministry has apparently deemed this a crisis situation.”

“Right, because what difference does several hours make?” Harry asked sarcastically.

Remus ignored him. “You should get your letter out, Hermione and get some rest. I’ll write to the counsel; I think at best, we can’t expect to leave until tomorrow evening. I hate to assume, but is it safe to request invitations for just the four of us?”

Hermione waited for Harry’s response, wondering if he would stay true to his word. “That’s a safe assumption,” he replied and rubbed his hands over his face. “We’ll see you after lunch tomorrow, Remus, and we’ll be ready to leave for Romania by five.”

The werewolf nodded and quickly made his way from the room.

As he exited, Luna entered, bearing a tray laden with food. She set it on the table and exited without a word, pausing briefly to squeeze Ron’s shoulder and smile at him supportively. Hermione recalled that they had dated briefly, long ago, and wondered distantly what had happened. She looked to Ron after the door had closed and was surprised to see such a pained expression on his face. Harry had noticed it too and it took only one glance between them to come to a decision. Harry stood up and crossed the room to open the door. Hermione flicked her wand at the tray of food and levitated it.

“Come on, Ron,” she said softly and pulled gently on his hand. He stood and walked out of the room between his best friends.

They went to her private quarters, as the other two had no such setup. Harry settled into a chair in the lounge and took the levitating food from her. She led Ron into the bathroom and started a bath before handing him several towels and a fresh set of robes that one of the house elves had brought in. She hugged him tightly and kissed his cheek. “Get cleaned up and come out to eat. We’ll talk if you want.”

He just nodded and she left him in peace, joining Harry in her sitting room. A tense sort of silence descended over them as she was powerfully reminded of their conversation from earlier. She turned her attention to the low table that separated them and noticed for the first time that he had set out three plates – it appeared that Luna had retrieved enough food for all of them.

“Do you remember that first night in Grimmauld Place after we’d located the final Horcrux?” Harry said quietly, his face turned away from her.

She thought for a moment before speaking slowly, “Yes, I do.” It had been a rough night for the Trio, they were each nervous, tired, and angry as the hunt had gone on more than long enough. The end was finally in sight and they were each irritable. Ron and Hermione ended up having an awful row and had pulled Harry into the middle. For one long moment, standing in the dreary old living room of that creepy mansion, Hermione could see how they could fall apart at any moment, how precious a thing their friendship really was. Harry had pushed them both away and left by himself to find the horcrux. They had, of course, gone after him and had finally set aside their issues to work in tandem and succeed at their mission.

“We can’t start off separated this time, Hermione.”

“I know, Harry,” she answered, knowing that there was much he had left unsaid. She knew he was worried about taking her along and was worried about what could happen if he didn’t. She highly suspected that he thought if Andie could be kidnapped right out from under Ron’s nose, it was possible the same could happen to her. By the slant of his shoulders, she knew he was feeling his burdens as very heavy at that moment.

He finally looked at her and nodded. He moved forward in his chair and stared into her eyes. She shivered involuntarily under his gaze, but didn’t pull away when his hand reached up to cup the side of her face. She pressed her warm face against his cool palm and sighed, annoyed at her reflexes for betraying her so readily. Physically, she longed for him to hold her, as she couldn’t shake the feeling that the whole world was about to come crashing down. A single tear trailed down her cheek and he smoothed his thumb over it.

“I won’t let you go without a fight, Hermione.”

Her eyes opened wide and she stared at him. Her chance for response was lost, however, as Ron walked into the room. He took the seat next to Harry and immediately started loading his plate with food.

“Ron, how are you feeling?”

“No worries, Mione,” he replied, gazing at her briefly. “There’s nothing new about this sort of thing, not for us.”

“We’ll find her Ron,” Harry said softly.

“I’m counting on that mate,” Ron answered quietly before turning his attention back to the food.

Hermione watched him for a moment and satisfied that he would continue to eat, she made up her own plate, quickly buttering slices of bread for both her and Harry, and took the bowl of soup he offered. Their fingers brushed as they passed the bowl and she nearly hissed aloud, feeling as if she could jump out of her own skin.

They ate in silence and before long, both Harry and Ron were yawning. Hermione cleaned away their dishes with a single wave of her wand.

“You’ll sleep in here tonight?” she asked quietly and they both nodded. It had been common in the days of the horcrux hunt that they all sleep in the same place, usually in some lonely cottage or cave.

She went into her bed chamber and closed the door silently after she’d heard Harry moving the wards around her room into place. After owling her quick letter to Hogwarts, she changed into a set of flannel pajamas and curled underneath the heavy down comforter spread over her bed. She fell asleep quickly that night, assured and able to rest because of the two men stationed outside her room.

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Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.