The Hour is Getting Late

The Hour is Getting Late

~

You and I we've been through hell
And this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now
The hour is getting late

~

Harry, Ron and Hermione walked dejectedly into the small, stark room. They were pale and weary, dripping water onto the floor from the storm outside.

Harry, who was last to enter the room, closed the door behind them. He pointed his wand at the door and muttered a spell. The door locked with an audible click. He turned and saw Ron collapsing onto the bed while Hermione headed straight to the bathroom.

Hermione briefly glanced over her shoulder and watched as Harry sat on the bed beside Ron. The last thing she saw before she closed the bathroom door was Harry reaching out and squeezing Ron's knee reassuringly.

It had been more than six months since the three friends began their search for the remaining Horcruxes. They had found and destroyed two: the locket, which Harry was quite disturbed to discover was in Grimmauld Place the entire time, and Hufflepuff's cup. Their searching had taken them all over the country, to places far and remote, as they worked on information gathered from the Order.

It was exhausting. They lived from day to day, taking nothing with them aside from their wands and a backpack containing Harry's invisibility cloak, a change of clothes for each of them and a bit of food.

It was a strange new life, so different from the years at Hogwarts or the summers they each spent with their respective families. But it had to be done and in a way, Harry was grateful for the task. He was doing something active and important in the fight for the first time, and he had no words to describe how thankful he was that his best friends were with him in this. Because the truth was, they didn't have to be here. This wasn't their fight, it wasn't their fate, like it was Harry's. And yet, they chose to remain by his side.

But there was no denying the danger inherent in their task. They had run into more Death Eaters than anticipated. They had all gotten very good, very quickly, at a range of healing charms and spells. But luck had been on their side, and there had been no major injuries sustained by the three young friends.

They tried to leave no trail behind, disguising themselves through magical and muggle means. In public, they weren't Harry, Ron and Hermione, they were James, Bill and Jane. They stayed in muggle hotels like this one, finding a spare room and locking themselves in it, casting a memory charm on any hotel worker who happened upon them and queried why there were people staying in a room that hadn't been booked.

It took a while for Hermione to emerge from the bathroom, after showering and cleaning her clothes with her wand. When she finally did resurface, Ron was lying on the bed, though his feet were still touching the ground, as though he had been sitting before flinging himself back. Harry was sitting beside him, his head cradled in one hand while the other was resting on Ron's knee.

Hermione felt the need to say something, to give some words of comfort to the two most important people in her life. But she had no words, nothing she could say would improve their spirits. So she simply murmured into the silence, "Bathroom is free."

Harry looked up when she spoke, though Ron didn't stir. Harry stood and made his way to the bathroom, grasping Hermione's hand briefly as they brushed pass one another.

It was like this every night. It was a strange ritual they had developed quite quickly, though none of them would be able to explain how they arrived at such routine. Every night they would find a hotel room, have some food if they hadn't eaten yet, then they would take turns to shower and get ready for bed, Hermione first, followed by Harry and then Ron. Someone would set the alarm for early the next morning and they would climb into bed. It was that simple and it was every night.

Harry sometimes worried that they weren't really living, that their friendship was waning, that each night when they finally had some time for themselves that they were too exhausted to enjoy it. There was no laughter anymore, no jokes or teasing. Instead, they had battles and running and exhaustion.

Harry returned from the bathroom, a towel around his neck. "It's all yours, Ron," he said to his friend, who still hadn't moved from the bed.

Ron got up and wearily made his way to the bathroom. Harry threw the towel from around his neck onto the back of a nearby chair and lay down on the double bed beside Hermione, who was sitting against the bed headboard. She had turned on the radio and so they sat in silence, listening to the sound of running water and melancholic music. Harry closed his eyes, trying and failing to relax, that is until he felt Hermione's hand in his hair, gently massaging his head. He breathed a contented sigh, finally able to let go.

Ron took the shortest time in the bathroom out of all three of them. Harry sat up and leaned against the headboard, giving Ron room to sit at the foot of the bed. Hermione shifted forward a bit, turning to face her friends.

"So what's the plan for tomorrow?" Ron asked.

"We head out to the castle. Remus says that Voldemort spent a lot of time there after Dippet refused his request to teach at Hogwarts," replied Hermione.

"We have to do some serious recon first. No doubt Voldemort will have Lestrange or someone watching the place now that he knows what we are doing," added Harry. Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement.

"So ... early tomorrow?" asked Ron.

"I'm thinking around dawn," Hermione said. "What do you think, Harry?"

"Sounds good to me," Harry said, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

Ron smiled. "Tired, mate?" he asked, placing his hand on Harry's ankle.

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, a little."

Ron glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was past midnight.

He turned back to Harry, who was looking down at his legs. Ron looked to Hermione and saw the same concern he was sure was written all over his face. They both knew Harry was despairing about their lack of progress on their latest search.

"Hey," Ron said, putting pressure on Harry's ankle to get his attention. Harry looked up. "It will be okay," he whispered.

It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the truth either. Because, even if they made it through this alive and whole and victorious, it still wouldn't be 'okay.' Ron's statement was more like a hope, a wish for all three of them.

Harry saw through his friends words to their true meaning. It might not be okay, but that doesn't mean we give up. We will stay with you and help you for as long as it takes. We're in this together. "Thanks," Harry said softly, smiling at both Ron and Hermione.

After a moment passed, Hermione said, "You guys ready to turn in?"

They both nodded, before all three friends climbed off the bed. Hermione picked up her wand from the bedside table and pointed it at the bed. She looked up to the boys, and they pulled the two bedside tables away from the bed and then stood back. Hermione muttered, "Engorgio," and the bed expanded in size.

Sneaking into random hotel rooms as they did every night, Harry, Ron and Hermione were constantly playing a game of chance with their sleeping arrangements. Very rarely did they happen upon a room with three beds. The majority of the time there were two beds, so they were now rather used to sharing. And they all shared - Ron and Hermione, Hermione and Harry, Ron and Harry. It was just a place to sleep and they were best friends, so it wasn't an issue. But quite often, like tonight, their room would only have one bed, so they would enlarge it so it was big enough for all three of them.

The three friends climbed into bed. Another one of their rituals was that when they shared a bed, Harry slept on the right, Hermione in the middle, Ron on the left. It was as though they had a shared subconscious, because it was like that every time.

When they were settled in, Hermione turned to Ron. She placed her hand on his cheek and kissed him. "Good night, sweetie," she whispered.

"'Night, love," he replied softly.

Hermione then turned over and kissed Harry goodnight. "'Night," she said in a low voice.

"Good night," Harry replied sleepily.

Hermione turned and lay on her back. Harry and Ron reached over her and briefly grasped hands mid-air as they bid each other good night.

Despite her lethargy, Hermione couldn't sleep. She never could when she lay nestled between the warm bodies of her two best friends. It was the best feeling in the world and she didn't want to miss a minute of it. Any flash of happiness had to be savoured, especially in these uncertain times.

Ron inched a bit closer to Hermione. He shifted onto his side, resting his head on the crook of his right arm. He reached out and placed his hand on Hermione's stomach. She took in a sharp breath at the touch. Hermione turned her head towards Ron. He could see her face in the dim light of the room. She was looking at him intently, a small smile on her face. He couldn't help but grin back at her. Hermione leaned across and placed a kiss on his forehead.

With a trembling hand, she reached under the blankets and found Harry's hand. She squeezed it briefly, then lifted it from his chest and brought it to her stomach, placing it on top of Ron's. Hermione felt Harry shift closer to her as he and Ron interlaced their fingers, resting their hands on her velvet stomach. As she rested her hands upon those of her best friends, she finally closed her eyes.

Harry took a deep breath, finally feeling relaxed, content with a small moment of peace as he lay with the two people he loved most in the whole world, feeling their warm hands against his. Any previous worries he may have had about their friendship waning vanished from his mind. If anything, they were only growing closer than ever before.