Disclaimer: The lyrics to the song "Hear Me" by Kelly Clarkson are in bold & italic print...hope you enjoy the story!


Hear me…Hear me

You gotta be out there
You gotta be somewhere
Wherever you are
I'm waiting

The window panes shuddered as the thunder clapped down ferociously, gusts of wind sent the debris spiraling into the air effectively rendering the immaculate homes on Privet Drive imperceptible. The inhabitants of these homes were curled in their beds, soundly asleep, blissfully unaware of the storm that was working itself into a furor right outside their doors. A single soul lay troubled, unable to fall asleep, his emotions mirroring the turmoil taking place outside. Harry Potter arrived at the home of the Dursley’s several weeks prior, to a lukewarm greeting at best. His family’s lack of enthusiasm did not trouble him however, he preferred exiling himself from them whenever possible. That he returned to spend a few weeks of his summer with them was merely a testament of his loyalty to Dumbledore. Harry bristled at the thought of his old mentor, or rather at the thought of how his mentor had been murdered in cold blood by a trusted companion.

Vengeance was the real reason that Harry found himself unable to sleep that night and every night for the past three weeks. His deepest desire was to settle the score with the murderers that killed his parents, godfather, and now, his mentor. Instead, he lay in bed plotting the next move he would take once he left the home of the Dursleys. Truthfully, he was waiting for a sign of sorts to indicate when it would be safe to leave. With Dumbledore gone, there was no way of knowing for sure that the ancient magic designed to protect him - so long as he returned to the abode of his blood relatives - was still in affect. Regardless, he did what Dumbledore had requested of him. He was Dumbledore’s man through-and-through…he was going to prove to the world that good could vanquish evil, Dumbledore’s death would not be in vain.

Yes, Lord Voldemort would soon become human again. Harry was going to hunt down every last Horcrux that had been created by that fanatic, and destroy them one-by-one. Then, he would go after Voldemort…vengeance would be his. But for now, he would wait. Somewhere out there, someone was bound to recall him into the wizarding world…into his world. But for now…he would wait.

'Cause there are these nights when
I sing myself to sleep
And I'm hopin' my dreams
Bring you close to me

Are you listening?

Harry quickly got to his feet as the band began to play the wedding march. His eyes narrowed as he waited for the procession line to begin walking down the aisle. He knew that he shouldn’t be seeking Ginny out, but did it anyway. When he first entered the room, his instinct was to find her. It took only a few looks around the room before he remembered that Fleur had made Ginny a bridesmaid. Now, as the line began to move, he scanned the faces with some difficulty, owing to the fact that he was in the far back of the wedding hall. He had picked this location to ensure that the curious onlookers would leave him alone, though now he regretted his rash decision. Before he could see her, he sensed Ginny’s entrance into the hall. When the woman in front of him that was wearing an oversized hat bent to quiet her child, he had a momentary, unobstructed view of his prey.

Ginny Weasley walked down the aisle accompanied by her brother, his best friend, Ron Weasley. A fierce desire to switch places with Ron surged through him as he studied Ginny’s silhouette She looked incredible in an emerald bridesmaid gown that made her hair seem fierier than he had ever seen. Her skin was a flawless, glowing, ivory white that made his blood pulse faster, though it was her manner that did him in. Any royal would have been jealous of the regal way she floated down the aisle, head held high and shoulders back. His love for her crippled him and it was for that reason that he could not be with her. He was about to embark on a crusade against Voldemort and he could have no Achilles' heel that could be exploited by the enemy. Ginny could never be with him.

No, he thought as he sat back down into his seat, Ginny is always with me… in my dreams.


Hear me
I'm cryin' out
I'm ready now

Tattered remains were scattered about the room that lay forgotten like ancient ruins hidden for centuries without disruption. The fire that burned dully in the hearth cast eerie shadows along the oak-paneled walls in the room Harry occupied. He rustled through the papers determined to find a clue that could help him decipher his perplexing past. Finding his way to Godric’s Hollow had taken more time than he anticipated. It was a journey he’d just as soon forget, for it was rife with danger. A skirmish had ensued with a strange wizard that occupied the home when he would not let them in. In the end, Harry, Ron, and Hermione managed to triple team him, though he Apparated away before they could catch and question him. No matter, it was clear that someone had not wanted him to go to his parents’ old home in search of answers. That person had torn what was left of the dwelling apart, in search of the thing that he, Harry, now sought. Perhaps the unknown culprit had the upper hand though, Harry considered, for it appeared that he knew what he was searching for. Harry still did not know what exactly it was that he was hoping to find in the rubble and ashes, but he searched on in crazed determination.

Hermione and Ron had long since fallen asleep in the adjacent room, although, Harry knew he could not rest until the task was complete. He pushed the useless papers away while rubbing his weary eyes, and pulled the box of remnants that Hermione and Ron had gathered towards him. Odd things, such as an old iron-wrought cauldron, thread, and pixie dust were strewn within the box. An old mirror at the bottom of the box caught his attention and he pulled it out to inspect it further. It looked oddly familiar to Harry as he turned it over in his hands. It greatly resembled the one that he received from Sirius two years prior, though this one was more ornate. As he recalled that the mirror Sirius had given him was a two-way mirror, he turned the mirror to the side with the looking glass. He had a split second to register the pair of bloodshot eyes staring back at him before throwing the mirror away in alarm.

He willed his heartbeat back to normal as he listened carefully to see if the noise he made had awoken his comrades. When he was certain that it had not, he pursued the mirror once more. The glass, now shattered, held no eyes in its depth, but a strange message…check the grate. After searching the room several times for the meaning of the odd message, he realized that this newcomer had to be referring to the grate within the fireplace. As he extinguished the fire he placed a cooling charm on it so that he could immediately look into it. He lit his wand and lay on his back within the fireplace in search of the grate. Positioned just above the opening of the inglenook was a gridiron lattice. Harry’s spirits soared as he saw a small book cloistered within it.

He noisily worked on taking the grid down, his concern for Ron and Hermione forgotten. Once he had the book in his hands he got out of the hearth and relit the fire. Ron’s snore indicated that he and Hermione remained asleep as Harry checked the mirror to see if there were anymore messages. He felt slightly let down to see that it had returned into an ordinary looking mirror but refocused his attention on the new book he had found. It was a miniscule booklet bound together by a gummy material. Gently, he opened the booklet and found, in curvy letters: Lily Potter �“ Department of Mysteries. His excitement reached paramount levels as he read through the tiny musings his mother had left behind. It did not take long to finish the book. The meaning behind his mother’s suspicions was clear and the charms she had written, beyond his capability…though he would learn them.

Harry took the ornate mirror in his hand; though this time he did not seek any signs from the stranger that helped him before. In the light of the dying embers, he looked to his own face…he was now ready to face Voldemort.

Turn my world upside down
Find me

“Harry, you have to concentrate if you want to work this charm,” Hermione chastised exasperatingly.

“Hermione, stop being critical,” Ron retorted, “can’t you see you’re making him nervous?”

Hermione folded her arms in annoyance. If Harry was going to learn the charms he had found in his mother’s book, and it was imperative that he did, than he was going to need a lot of coaching. His mind was clearly on other matters as he stood before her, unable to perform the simplest of the charms.

“I’ll just be in the other room if you need me,” she told them, somewhat waspishly.

As she exited the room, she distinctly heard Ron whisper, “Shesssh…I thought she’d never leave.”

It irked her that they found her help such a bother. When she had finally managed to work the charm they were practicing, she caught them rolling their eyes at one another. The two of them were just acting like jealous school boys. Soon they would be begging for her help…no doubt she would feel pity for them and give in, as usual. Hermione found herself in the high-ceilinged drawing room where a humongous tapestry hung alongside one of the walls. She walked, as though drawn by a powerful force, to the tapestry. Her finger touched upon a small burned hole where the name of Sirius Black had been blasted out by his horrible mother.

Hermione could not understand how a mother could favor one child over another as Sirius said his mother had done. Her gaze fell to the right of Sirius’ name, it read: Regulus Black. His date of death was seventeen years prior. Something bothered Hermione as she looked at the name of Sirius’ brother, but she could not put her finger on what it was. She looked up to Sirius’ parents and began to trace the lines connecting his relatives. A line that came down from Sirius’ maternal grandparents also had a blast where a name should have been. An unbidden memory streamed through her mind…my Uncle Alphard had left me a decent bit of gold…Sirius had told them…he’s been wiped off here too, that’s probably why.

Hermione swallowed convulsively, Sirius’ Uncle Alphard…his brother, Regulus Black. She strained her mind in an attempt to remember what Sirius had told them that day…Stupid idiot…he joined the Death Eaters. Hermione gripped her throat to keep the bile down as the pieces began to fall into place. The bit of parchment Harry had found in the fake Horcrux came to mind…To the Dark Lord…only Death Eaters addressed Lord Voldemort as the Dark Lord…I know I will be dead long before you read this…Regulus Black had died seventeen years ago…but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret…Sirius’ voice telling Harry about his brother floated into her mind…From what I found out after he died, he got in so far, then panicked about what he was being asked to do and tried to back out…Hermione was horrified, could Sirius have been wrong?

Her mind returned to the letter at once…I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can…Had Regulus stolen the locket that had once belonged to Merope Gaunt, Voldemort’s mother? The image of Ron struggling to open a heavyset locket on the same day that Sirius had revealed all this information about his brother flooded her mind. Harry had also been unable to open that same locket. Come to think of it, no one had been able to open that locket. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more…Could Sirius have been so wrong? Was it possible that Regulus had come to their side and stolen one of Lord Voldemort’s Horcruxes? The initials…R.A.B. There was no way to verify Regulus’ middle name, but it all fit.

She looked around ubiquitously. Where could that locket be? She tore the room apart looking for it. A crashing sound issued from the kitchen and Hermione leapt from the floor, Kreacher! It had to be with Kreacher. She screamed for Harry and Ron, she had found the Horcrux.

Disclaimer: The lyrics to the song "Hear Me" by Kelly Clarkson are in bold & italic print...hope you enjoy the story!


I'm lost inside the crowd
It's getting loud

Hermione cheered loudly for the third time in ten minutes. That meant that Harry had finally mastered the charm and was able to repeat it with ease. No doubt Hermione would turn her attention to tutoring Ron next. It’s not that he didn’t want to learn the charm, he really did…the magic was simply beyond his ability. It had been no surprise when Hermione had managed the charm in her third attempt, even Harry had gotten it after his twenty-eighth try, but he was woefully inept at charms. If it hadn’t been for Hermione walking him through most classes during their time at Hogwarts, he was certain that he would have failed. In order to delay the inevitable grueling lessons Hermione was sure to force upon him, Ron took longer than was necessary to make breakfast. He strained each egg no less than three times to separate the whites from the yolks, and when one of the yolks ruptured contaminating everything in the frying pan, he threw it all away and started from scratch.

During his second attempt at making breakfast, a rapping outside the window caught his attention. He opened the curtains and a small owl attempted to fly into the kitchen. Of course it hit the window with a resounding splat, but he had not expected any better of Pigwidgeon. Ron opened the window and let the tiny owl slide into his hands, it hooted softly in appreciation.

“Let’s see what you’ve got here,” Ron said, untying a letter addressed to him from Pigs outstretched foot. “Mum,” Ron smiled, “who else?” He sat down to read the letter his mother had sent him.

To my darlings Ron, Harry, and Hermione:

I hope this finds you in the best of health, greatest of spirits, and purest of hearts. Not a day passes by that I do not pray for your safe return. I believe in the depth of my soul, that there is no one better suited to accomplish the task you have undertaken…So take care of yourselves, and of one another.

Much time has passed since I have been able to write, I apologize for that. As you know, the Order is under severe restructuring since the death of our beloved Dumbledore, though that is not the reason I am writing to you. It is difficult, especially now, to think of the great losses we have endured.

Time heals nothing, but it brings with it new days to be lived and memories to be made. It is with this optimistic outlook that I convey to you the joyful news that our family is now celebrating. Bill and Fleur are expecting a child to be born within the next summer. I am elated at the prospect of being a grandmother, as I am sure you are elated to be an Uncle, Ronald.

When it rains, it pours, in good times and bad…I am therefore thrilled to announce to you the engagement of two of our dearest friends, Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. As you may expect, Tonks’ hair is now pinker than any pink I have ever witnessed in nature.

That is all the news I have to impart to you at this time, though I will write to you often. Do not hesitate to contact me at whatever time the desire strikes you. To see your owls in the distance fills my heart with joy and contentment. Keep me in your prayers, for I shall surely keep you in mine.

Love always,
Molly Weasley

Ron set the letter aside. He was happy to know that all was well back at the Burrow. The news about Lupin was quite a surprise and his mother was correct; he was elated at the prospect of being someone’s uncle. Of course it was no surprise that Bill and Fleur were already having a baby, Weasley’s produced offspring faster than rabbits. Ron was happy, very happy, to see that everyone continued to live their lives in spite of the threat of Voldemort. Still, he couldn’t help feeling left behind. Since he was little, he had battled with feelings of inadequacy and mediocrity. The people around him always had something amazing going on in their lives. Back at home, marriage arrangements were being made and babies were on the way. Here at Grimmauld Place, Hermione had discovered who R.A.B. was and told them that Kreacher had the locket. But Kreacher didn’t have it; still, it was a good guess. Harry tracked down Mundugnus Fletcher all the way to Azkaban to find the location of the Horcrux. Once he had it, he destroyed it.

And Ron still couldn’t master a simple charm that both his friends had already worked out. Rather, he hid in the kitchen like a stupid git making eggs and toast. Nothing had changed from the time he had been a small child. He continued to be overshadowed and overlooked by those around him. Would there ever come a time for him to shine?

I need you to see
I'm screaming for you to please
Hear me… Hear me…Hear me…

It couldn’t be…Hermione looked at the devastated community that lay before her…it just couldn’t be. She ran to a home unaware of the concerned looks that her friends shot in her direction. She did not notice as they came up behind her, but pulled suddenly away when one of them placed a hand on her shoulder. It was a consoling gesture, and there was no reason for them to console her because it simply couldn’t be. People were looking sympathetically in her direction as she pushed the door of the home with all her might. She really did not need to push the door to get into the house owing to the fact that two of the walls and the roof were missing, but she pushed it anyway.

Rage took a hold of her when the door wouldn’t budge. She kicked and kicked, throwing herself at the door repeatedly to no avail. As she paused to gather her breath, the hilarity of the whole situation caught up with her. Two walls and the roof of the house she had been raised in were demolished, but even giants could not bring down the oversized door that her father had attached to a too-small frame. She laughed and laughed at the irony, disregarding the startled looks on the faces of her friends. She laughed until she was crying from the absurdity of the whole situation. Her parents were not dead…they were behind the door waiting for her to find a way inside.

She kicked the door again. As the tears of amusement changed to searing tears of pain, the door opened. Hope filled her as she ran through the door, but it faded just as quickly as it had come. A massacre had taken place in the dwelling. Dried blood darkened the remains of the dilapidated residence. Reality seeped into her mind when she noticed her mother’s prized needlepoint thrown carelessly on the floor. Her mother would never have allowed her possessions to be strewn so callously about. Her tears did not flow fast enough to ease the pain in her shattered heart. Nothing could erase the ache she felt when she recognized that her parents would never laugh with her…hold her…

She screamed from her soul, screamed in protest at the injustice, screamed for the family she had lost.

Can you hear me?

Hermione’s bloodcurdling screams still rang in his mind later that night as he took a seat on a chair next to Ron in the patio. They were staying in a little Parish, hosted by an elderly Pastor and his kind wife. Hermione lay asleep deeply sedated by the shots that a Muggle doctor had administered to her earlier that day. Now, as the breeze swept over them, Harry and Ron were left to sort out the details of Hermione’s life.

“Did you hide the box?” Ron asked him without emotion.

The box he was referring to had all the possessions that they had been able to scrape together from Hermione’s damaged home. They decided to hide the box from Hermione in fear that if she wondered upon it, she would lose control once more.

“It’s in my trunk,” Harry replied.

They remained silent for a very long time, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione had been completely devastated; neither of them thought that she would ever be quite the same again. At this moment, it was their duty to protect, care for, and nurture her.

“She can live with me at Grimmauld Place,” Harry broke the silence at last.

“No.”

Harry looked over at his best friend, startled.

“Once we’re done tracking the Horcruxes,” Harry clarified.

“No,” Ron repeated his rejection of Harry’s solution.

“But it’s the best solution,” Harry argued.

“She’s not moving in with you,” Ron stated flatly.

“She’s not exactly in the state to go out there and find a job that can support her Ron,” Harry pointed out in irritation.

“She doesn’t have to.”

Ron’s monotonous half-statements were really beginning to get on Harry’s nerves. He simply wasn’t going to listen to reason.

“So what solution do you have to Hermione’s situation,” Harry bit back.

“I’m marrying her.”

I used to be scared of
Letting someone in

Ron watched as Hermione slept in something of a deep coma. Whatever the Muggle healer had given her had been too powerful. She had slept for twelve hours straight. Harry told him not to fret, that it was common for Muggle healers to give large doses of ‘pain-killers’ to patients that they feared may hurt themselves…but that didn’t curb his worry. Ron stroked her hair, willing her to wake up, but she did not. The moonlight creeping through the blinds cast an iridescent glow on her face. It was obvious to Ron that she had been crying in her sleep. He bent down and kissed her eyelids. Hermione had endured a pain the like of which he had never known. Their constant bickering seemed excessively trivial now.

It was his fear of having a shrewish, bossy, domineering girlfriend that had kept him from asking her out in the past…though he had wanted to. When he realized he was attracted to his best friend, Ron had been afraid. Rejection by her would be different…more painful, than rejection from any other girl. Besides, he remained unsure about whether or not she could ever reciprocate his feelings. Initially, he suspected that she may harbor feelings for Harry…he soon learned differently. It was Viktor Krum that had stolen her away. In his acrimony, Ron had gotten into a very public relationship with Lavender Brown. He wanted Hermione to feel the pain and humiliation that she had inflicted upon him.

Though now, as he looked at her pale face, he realized that he was willing to endure death if it would ease her suffering. He had always thought that he had been dealt the short end of the stick in life…until now. Hermione had no family, no home, and no inheritance save for a few trinkets.

Maybe Harry was right, maybe he was too young to get married…too childish to take on the responsibility of a wife…too poor to take on the financial burdens of a household…but what little he had, he would share it with Hermione…Just as his father had done with his mother.

Disclaimer: The lyrics to the song "Hear Me" by Kelly Clarkson are in bold & italic print...hope you enjoy the story!


But it gets so lonely
Being on my own

Harry remained on the patio long after Ron had returned inside thinking about Ron’s extreme pronouncement…I’m marrying her.

Could he be serious? Was he going to marry Hermione having never even dated her? Harry knew that Ron had feelings for her, and that she returned that same interest…but marriage?

Harry had the strong urge to look after the woman he cared for, though he could not understand how marriage would serve that end. When he recognized the dangerous path that he was going to tread, he had let go of Ginny. Maybe it was because he and Ron had different journeys to travel; in the end, Harry would end up either murdered or a murderer. Still, the possibility that Ron could get killed was high. The possibility that Hermione could get killed was equally as high. But at this point, it was the least likely victims, Hermione’s parents that had been killed.

Did Ron have the right of it…continuing to live his life despite the uncertainty the world threw their way? Refusing to put love on hold, even for a moment. Was keeping the one you loved close to you best, even if you couldn’t promise them another tomorrow?

Was he really helping Ginny by leaving her?

No one to talk to
And no one to hold me

The moonlight streaming through the blinds fell onto the face of a pale young woman. Hermione woke up feeling confused and somewhat dazed. Where was she? Her pounding headache and sudden aversion to light had her curling back into a tight little ball under her covers. Well, if she had been kidnapped by Death Eaters at least they had given her a comfortable bed. A snore from behind her sent her into a slight panic. Was there someone lying in bed next to her? Hermione turned over, ever so slowly, so as not to awaken whoever lay beside her. She let out a sigh of relief when she recognized the face of Ronald Weasley on the pillow next to hers. What was Ron doing here? Well, he was sleeping on top of the covers instead of underneath them so she gathered that it had not been his intention to fall asleep next to her.

Where were they? She looked around the room noting the simple ambiance. Perhaps she had gotten hurt and Ron had brought her here for safety…yes, that seemed to be the only explanation. Hermione looked at Ron’s familiar features in the moonlight. He was really quite handsome, in that scruffy, unkempt sort of way. His hair was really nice, he was the kind of person that could get out of the shower, run a towel through his hair, and be ready to go. She smiled; such things were lost on boys. His long sooty eyelashes were another feature that most girls would kill to have, but it wasn’t something he had ever taken notice of.

Sooty eyelashes and silky hair aside, why was he lying here next to her? She scrunched up her face trying to recall the events of the previous day. Harry managed to perform his mother’s charm…under her tutelage, of course. Ron had shared a touching letter from Mrs. Weasley with them. Then the owl post had come with the Daily Prophet. Hermione swallowed hard fighting back the tears. On the front page of the paper was a picture of her ravaged home. She, Ron, and Harry had rushed to her home to find nothing but rubble. Her mother’s embroidery had been amongst the wreckage. That was all she could remember as the silent tears spilled over her face once more. Her beloved parents were dead. She had no one now.

Her father would never again read the newspaper to her at breakfast. Her mother would never hold her, or stroke her hair. Her family’s warm embrace had been robbed from her, by Voldemort. She wasn’t going to lose her mind, though. She was going to help Harry kill Voldemort, then…she looked through her watery eyes at Ron’s blurry silhouette...then she’d find something to live for. The tears continued to flow steadily until dawn began to stream through the shades. Hermione turned over on her side and placed her arm around Ron, nuzzling her face into his neck…she needed to hold someone.

I'm not always strong

Hermione opened her eyes and winced at the bright light. Ron hurried to close the shutters before walking over to her bed and giving her a tentative kiss on the forehead.

“How are you feeling,” Ron asked apprehensively.

Hermione looked around the room, she didn’t answer his question.

“Hermione,” she looked directly at him upon hearing her name spoken, “I got a pretty dress for you to wear.” He pointed to place just behind his right shoulders where a slightly worn white gown in flowing satin material shone.

“Will you put it on?” Ron held his breath as he waited for her answer. After a considerable amount of time, she nodded. “I’ll just get a nice old lady to come help you, alright?” Before she could respond he bounded out of the room to where the Pastor’s wife was waiting in the hallway and gave her the go ahead. He paced directly outside the room, praying that his plan would work. Hermione was not fully cognizant of anything just yet, but he refused to wait. Half an hour later, what seemed like eternity to Ron, the Pastor’s wife opened the door. She sent him a kindly smile before flittering down the stairs. He walked into Hermione’s room, but froze at the door.

Although she was quite pale and fragile, Hermione sat like an ethereal beauty on a small bench in front of a nightstand. Her hair fell in cascades of tight spirals from the clip at the top of her head. He felt quite heady as he reached for her arm and lead her into the hallway. At the top of the stairs he paused.

“Hermione?”

She looked to him with forlorn eyes.

“I’m not always strong when I should be,” he began awkwardly. “I never should have waited so long to show how much I care for you. You’ve never let me down…you always understood me. When I fell, you were there, reaching out your hand to me. You’re the best friend that I’ve found. I’m reaching out my hand to you now. I want to be there for you the only way I know how.”

He pulled a golden wedding band from his pocket.

“I need to know, right now. Can I take you home? Can I keep you…forever?”

Oh, I need you here

Harry watched as the Pastor rattled on about marriage. He couldn’t really believe he was standing here, but he was. His two best friends were on a small, raised altar in the garden exchanging vows…err, perhaps he was using the word “exchanging” rather liberally. Hermione was silent throughout the entire ceremony, though she nodded her head jerkily at the proper times. The one time the Pastor questioned whether she was in a state to be married, she had burst into tears, clutching Ron for dear life. The kindly old woman that the Pastor was married to soothed her, while shooting deadly glares at her husband. He got the message and continued the ceremony right away.

The entire time, Harry watched from the sideline. He wanted to be happy for his friends…but he couldn’t. Jealousy ate him up. The two of them had never shared so much as a kiss, yet here they were, exchanging vows. Where was Ginny? What was she doing now? Had she found someone else to love? The thought of her marrying another man almost blinded him with rage. She should have been here…with him. They should be the ones on that altar declaring their undying love.

As soon as his bitter thoughts came, they left. Ron took Hermione’s face in his hands and kissed her tenderly. When he began to move away she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him unabashedly. The Pastor lovingly put an arm around his wife who was now crying at the romance of it all. When the two lovebirds finally broke apart, Harry saw the fierce look of pride on Ron’s face and the devotion on Hermione’s. They really were in love. He felt ashamed for his earlier resentment towards them.

As he continued to watch them together, dancing their first dance as man and wife, he realized how much he needed Ginny with him.

Are you listening?

“Excuse me?” Hermione whispered

“Are you listening?” Ron asked.

She nodded. The words of the song seemed to hold so much relevance to their lives right now that she was listening quite intently to the lyrics. She laid her head back on her husband's shoulder. Her husband, it sounded much too amazing to be true. She was his wife. His wife! When she woke up earlier that day and saw the white gown behind him…well she didn’t want to jinx it by talking. Instead, she remained silent, as though transfixed in a dream. At the top of the stairs, he told her how much he cared for her. He didn’t say that he loved her, but it didn’t matter to her if he didn’t love her. She loved him. She had always loved him. She would always love him…forever.

If caring about her got him to the altar, she was fine with that. Someday, she would find a way to make him love her. For now, she was content with things as they were.

Hear me
I'm cryin' out
I'm ready now

Thunder sounded loudly in the distance as rain-laden clouds poured steady sheets of sleet outside of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Harry and Ron snuck into Sirius’ old bedroom where they were assured a bit of privacy.

“It’s been a week Ron,” Harry persisted as he stretched out on Sirius’ old bed, “She’s not ready to go back out there yet.”

“I agree,” Ron said with an exasperated sigh, “but this confirms the location of the Hufflepuff cup,” he shook the letter he was holding.

“I can go…” Harry no sooner began, than his next comment was waved impatiently away by a fuming Ron.

“You’re not going without me and that’s final.”

Harry was quite indignant by Ron’s bossy attitude. “Your wife,” he emphasized the words rather loudly, “will be unable to make the journey to Albania.”

“I already said I agree,” Ron replied in a huff, “but there’s no way she’s going to let either of us go without her.”

Harry held his head in his hands; a headache was beginning to throb copiously near his front lobe.

“Fine,” Harry gave in, “when do you think Hermione will be ready…”

Before he could complete his sentence a flash of lightening illuminated the doorframe where Hermione stood like some sort of an eerie phantom.

“Hermione,” Harry jumped, afraid by her presence and wondering how much of the conversation she had overheard.

“I’m ready now,” she said with intimidating conviction.

Disclaimer: The lyrics to the song "Hear Me" by Kelly Clarkson are in bold & italic print...hope you enjoy the story!


Turn my world upside down
Find me
I'm lost inside the crowd
It's getting loud

“Have another bloody Mary,” Charlie cordially imposed upon the strange man at the bar, “it’s on me!”

The skinny, grimy looking man looked like a hearty meal and strong bath soap would suit him better than another drink, but he happily took the cup Charlie was offering. He took a long swig, splashing part of the drink onto his tattered shirt, before resuming his conversation with Charlie.

“Brawling with Vampires, that trumps researching Dragons any day of the week!” Charlie fed the man’s ego to get him to continue divulging information.

“Et’s very hard job,” he replied in a heavy Albanian accent, “Et’s not mush pay…but ladies like et.” The nasty man winked at a barmaid.

“I’ll bet you’ve got more scars than I have,” Charlie said wistfully.

The man jumped up at that, “See dis?” He pointed to a long gash on his leg in an extremely proud manner, “Es from the leeder, Zora!”

“Surely that’s not from the Vampira of the horde!”

“Et es!” The man insisted hopping on the spot where he stood. “I punch her like this,” his fists sliced through the air in a moment of relived glory, “an’ she screams an’ slices half my leg open.”

“Wow,” Charlie cooed, appreciating the man’s wound and signaling the barmaid for another round, “You must have traveled to the ends of the country to find the labyrinth.”

After downing another cup the man looked anxiously around and leaned close to Charlie. In a conspiring tone he whispered, “Et es not so far as you think.”

Charlie ignored the offending dog breath that the man had and leaned in closer…this was what he had been waiting for.

“Really?” He egged the man on with his false enthusiasm, “You wouldn’t be too scared to show me where it is?” He held his breath hoping the man would take his bait. Once the challenge registered in the strangers eyes he leapt to his feet.

“Scared! Nicolas es scared from nothing! Get your coat, foreigner!”

This was what they all had been waiting for. Charlie took long strides to catch up with Nicolas, checking behind him every now and again to make sure that Ron, Harry, and Hermione were keeping up. He grinned; finding the location of the Horcrux was easy if you knew who to butter up.

I need you to see
I'm screaming for you to please
Hear me

“He had to stupefy him,” Ron whispered to Hermione, “at least he Apparated him back to the bar and out of harms way.”

With a loud POP! Charlie had returned.

“Ok you lot, gather round,” he ordered. They quickly did as they were bidden. “Once we go into the labyrinth we’re going to get separated,” he held up his hands as they shot each other anxious glances. “I’ve studied labyrinths in great detail…this one in particular.”

Hermione gasped casting him a covetous look, “I’ve been unable to find anything that suggests that this labyrinth is anything but fable.”

He nodded, “Right you are, books wouldn’t have that knowledge.” A shadow crossed his face, “That kind of information is only to be found in the darkest of places and people…and at a very high cost.”

“What…”

“Not now Ron,” Charlie interrupted his brother. “This labyrinth is a lot like the maze you faced in your fourth task of the Triwizards Tournament,” Charlie told Harry. “Different types of danger lies on each pathway.”

“Why did the cup have to be here?” Ron whined, looking fleetingly at the labyrinth.

“I already told you Ron,” Charlie said with an exasperated air, “He-who-must-not-be-named befriended the Vampira of the horde. In exchange for the Hufflepuff cup, he was guaranteed unobstructed insight into their forms of Dark Arts.”

“He really got the best deal all around,” Harry muttered angrily.

Charlie nodded, “Absolute protection of his Horcrux by a labyrinth of the most violent and deadly vampire horde ever to exist…not that they know what everyone is after. That Hufflepuff cup would be a treasure on the black market…many men have died attempting to attain it.”

“But no one’s succeeded,” Hermione whispered.

They all took a moment to think about the gravity of the task they were about to undertake.

“Everything should work out,” Charlie reassured them, “We’re armed with more information going in than anyone else before us.”

“So which pathway do we take,” Ron asked forcefully, trying to show a bit of Gryffindor courage that he really did not feel.

“We have to split up.”

“NO!”

“It’s the only way,” Charlie shot back. “Do you want that cup or not?”

“Yes…” Hermione began.

“Than listen to me. The pathways act like a gridlock or a code. Make it through the right ones and a single path emerges leading directly to Zora’s realm…where the cup is.”

“How do we know if we’ve cleared a path?” Harry asked, prepared to undertake the entire task on his own.

“A light shines at the end of the tunnel once you reach the trigger and all your enemies flee, owing to the fact that they’re all night creatures.”

“How many paths’ are there?” Hermione asked.

“Many, but there are only three correct ones, they make the code work: the left most path, the third from the right, and dead center.”

“Three of them,” Ron said, getting his game face on, “We can do this.”

“I’m going with Ron,” Hermione cut in.

Charlie nodded his assent. “Harry takes the left path, you and Ron take the third from the right…I’m going dead center. Once we’re in, try not to make any noise so they don’t know we’re there until we’ve worked our way through most of the path.”

They all readily agreed. “Let’s go,” Harry told them.

I'm restless and wild
I fall, but I try
I need someone to understand
Can you hear me?

Ron walked into Hermione for the third time. He got a hold of her before she had the chance to sway or fall. After giving her arms a squeeze he let her go. So far they had only been attacked from the back so he had taken the rear position. Luckily, they had not come across a situation that required them to light their wands. They continued on through the pitch black path as little critters scrambled out of their way. Ron was rather certain that spiders were completely surrounding them, but as he couldn’t see them, his façade of courage was maintained. They had been traveling in an upward direction for some time now and as they anticipated, they came directly into a wall.

“We have to climb to the top,” Hermione whispered into his ear, “I’m sure that’s where the trigger is.”

Ron nodded, than realized she wouldn’t be able to see him and squeezed her hand. The wall was pretty jagged, ensuring that they could get a decent grip. It took a while to climb, but they ignored the bats swooping around them and kept at it. It’s just this one path, Ron thought to himself, than we’ll all be back together. Hermione tapped his hand with her foot, signaling that she had reached the top. As she began to pull herself up, he heard her scream and instinctively lit his wand. With a loud whooshing sound Hermione began to fall down the side of the canyon. With only thoughts of reaching her on his mind he released his wand letting it fall into the abyss and grabbed a hold of her hand.

He gave thanks, perhaps too early, for the strong grip he had on her arm. He looked up to see how far he would have to climb before she could get a good grip on the wall. With the dying of his wand light he saw the barest outlines of the leering vampires that had frightened Hermione. As they took flight he gripped Hermione and the wall as tightly as was humanly possible. He felt them tearing the flesh from his face but made no effort to fight them off. Their only hope of survival was to make it up then canyon wall. With more strength than he knew he had, he pulled Hermione up and over his head. He allowed her to step on his shoulders while taunting the vampires in an effort to give her time. The vampires were successfully worked up into a furor.

Using their claws they slashed his back, until he could feel his free-flowing, warm blood mingling with the frigid cold air around them. The weight shifted off his shoulders and he looked up to determine whether Hermione had made it. That proved to be a costly mistake when a vampire descended upon him, slamming his head repeatedly into the stone wall. Whether it was Hermione making it to the trigger, or the fact that his head had been beaten into the wall that was causing the blinding light he did not know, as he fell spiraling into the abyss.

Can you hear me?

Molly Weasley was aghast when she saw her son’s state. However, unlike her son Bill, Ron had not been bitten by the demons that attacked him. They had checked his body thoroughly and found not a single pair of Vampire teeth, to the relief of everyone in the Burrow. Nevertheless, much like Bill’s wife, Fleur, Ron’s wife, Hermione, had not allowed anyone near him. She tended to his every wound and gash with the tenderness of a spouse and the expertise of a trained healer. Ron had not awoken yet, but the potion they had given him was not set to wear off for another few or so hours. Her son’s bravery, as told by Hermione, sent her into a fresh round of tears. He had sustained injuries from no less than a half-dozen Vampires without offering resistance whatsoever. His concern had been solely on saving his wife from falling to her death and than on placing her out of harms way.

Molly sat down at the kitchen table weeping more than ever as the voice of a seven-year-old Ron drifted into her mind.

“You’re the handsome one,” he said pointing to Bill, “and you’re the strong one,” he pointed to Charlie. “The smart one, the funny ones, and Ginny’s a girl so she’s automatically special.” He had turned to her with imploring eyes. “What makes me special mommy?”

“What are you talking about?” Fred had cut in. “You’re a girl, just like Ginny.”

“No he’s the stupid git one…” George said.

“I’ve got it!” Fred shouted at last. “You’re the awkward one!” He and George gave each other a high-five for finally figuring it out.

“Quiet!” Molly had yelled, noticing the tears that welled up in her little boy’s eyes at his brother’s relentless put downs. She took him into her lap and stroked his hair, turning him to face her.

“You’re the one with the biggest heart,” she told him gently. Ron didn’t look like this answer made him happy. “That means you’re the most innocent and purest of all,” she continued, though that didn’t win him over.

“Let’s go play Quidditch!” Fred exclaimed. “I’ll let you use my broom if you don’t cry.”

That perked little Ron right up, and he ran excitedly outside behind his brothers.

“Don’t let Ginny on a broom!” She had shouted to their retreating backs.

“Don’t worry; I’ll take care of her,” Ron, the youngest of all her boys, had shouted back to her.

She meant what she had told him that day. He truly was the purest of them all! She cried her eyes out at the memory.

Disclaimer: The lyrics to the song "Hear Me" by Kelly Clarkson are in bold & italic print...hope you enjoy the story!


I'm lost in my thoughts
And baby I've fought
For all that I've got
Can you hear me?

It was all, his fault. No one else was to blame. As soon as Ron had told him that he was going to marry Hermione he should have forced them to return home. Guilt seeped through Harry as he looked down into his best friend’s ravaged face.

“If you can hear me, I want you to get better soon…what I’m about to do is for the best.”

He had no doubt that Mrs. Weasley and Hermione would nurse Ron back to health. It was sheer luck that had kept the vampires from latching on and biting him; Harry shuddered at the thought of what could have been. When Hermione had triggered the last path he and Charlie had been ready to run down it. Harry was not stupid, he knew that there was probably little that he could have done for Ron that Hermione would not have thought to do, but still. It was terrible that in his moment of greatest need, Ron’s brother and best friend had been hurtling down the path that would lead them to failure.

All their efforts had been in vain, Harry thought as he spat angrily on the ground. Ron would never have gotten so critically injured if it wasn’t for their urgent need to get the Horcruxes. To Harry’s consternation, he relived his last memories of Dumbledore fighting in the cave…weakening himself for a Horcrux that wasn’t there. Oh, the Hufflepuff cup had been with Zora…they were right on that account. What they hadn’t anticipated, was that the Hufflepuff cup was not a Horcrux. Charlie fought Zora as Harry reached the cup to perform his mother’s charm…but it had not worked. The Hufflepuff cup remained unblemished. He repeated the charm positive that he had made some sort of error, but that was of no benefit.

Dumbledore had been so sure that the Hufflepuff cup was a Horcrux…but he had been duped, just as he had been about Snape and the locket. Harry didn’t blame Dumbledore as he climbed catlike out the window of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room, he blamed himself. That’s why he was leaving like a thief in the night. It wasn’t fair to allow Hermione and Ron on this dangerous journey with him, especially now when they had so much to live for. They were newlyweds, they deserved a chance at happiness…and he wasn’t going to snatch it away from them or have them give it up in some noble gesture of companionship.

Ron and Hermione belonged here, at the Burrow, away from the direct line of fire. Harry landed with a small thud on the ground. He had his invisibility cloak on so he was quite certain no one would notice him leaving.

Hear me
I'm cryin' out
I'm ready now

Turn my world upside down
Find me

I'm lost inside the crowd
It's getting loud

I need you to see
I'm screaming for you to please
Hear me…Hear me…Hear me…Hear me

The wand light fell onto a desk where a small book, ornate mirror, and bits of parchment lay scattered about. He grinned cheekily when he noticed that his mother scribbled along the edge of her parchment when she got bored, just as he did. The caricature in the margin was of a baby boy, perhaps six-months old. He recognized that he was the baby in the doodling. The thing that had thrown him off at first was that the baby did not have scar on his forehead, but than he’d realized that his mother had never known him with a scar. Harry Potter rubbed his exhausted eyes as he stared at the evidence in front of him. He was numb to the shock that he had felt earlier that day when he had put the pieces together.

A snort from across the room stilled him, but the person who made the sound simply rolled over and continued to sleep. After leaving the Burrow, Harry found himself without a place to go. Grimmauld Place was sure to be swarming with Order members and Godric’s Hollow would be the first place they would think to look, so he took to the streets of London. A sign on a toy store that was counting down the days until Christmas caught his eye. It read, “8 days to Christmas.”

He checked his watch, technically the sign was wrong; it was now seven days to Christmas. As he stood there, bemused by the muggle train that was moving along the tracks in the display case he was struck by inspiration. He made his way swiftly to King’s Cross. If he was correct, than tomorrow morning would hail the arrival of the Hogwarts' students that were coming home for the holidays. He spent the night on a hard, cold bench, afraid that if he slept, he would miss their arrival. He did not worry about seeing Ginny, though she crossed his mind more than once as he sat there, for he had overheard at the Burrow that she would not be coming home for the holidays. Seeing as every member of the Weasley family was involved in some form of Order business, he thought that it was rather prudent of her to stay where it was safe.

Soon, the arrival of strangely clothed adults who were walking into a wall had him smiling. As he had predicted, a stern looking old woman wearing a vulture hat and lime green jacket stepped through the wall. He spent his time, from when the woman disappeared to when she reappeared with an awkward young man, trying to look like a hobo. He cast a silencing charm from under his cloak at Neville Longbottom and proceeded to sever his bag with a severing charm. As Neville gathered his things, Harry bent down to help him. Once Neville looked up to thank him, Harry lowered his cloak slightly off his face so that Neville would recognize him.

When Neville soundlessly cried out ‘Harry’, he felt validated in putting a silencing charm on him. Once he was assured that Neville would not make any loud outbursts, he lifted the charm and explained to him that he needed a place to stay for a few days. Neville and his grandmother quickly extended an invitation to join them and he did so gratefully. As the hour-hand of the grandfather clock chimed midnight he made a mental note that this was now the sixth day he was imposing on their hospitality, not that they seemed to mind. Harry looked back to the gruesome truth that lay in front of him. His mother’s book was opened to what he believed to be the two most important pages. On the right hand side, three charms were listed:

1) Verfigurado �“ Use to identify if an item is a Horcrux
2) Sensâme �“ Use to destroy a Horcrux
3) Reuniraja - Use to reunite the souls within Horcruxes

Harry was sure that he had the first two mastered; whether he could perform the last one was yet to be seen. The opposite page held a caption that read:

Any given Horcrux will bear a mark revealing the number of times that the soul residing in it has been split. The primary soul will remain in the body of its owner, the split soul(s) may be hidden within any object, including living creatures. At all times, the soul desires to be reunited. Living creatures that act as a Horcrux would most likely be drawn to other parts of the soul, particularly to the primary soul. They may see, feel, and hear the primary…

The rest of the caption was continued on the following page, but he didn’t need to turn to see what it said…he had it memorized. They may see, feel, and hear the primary soul as it beckons them back together. The parchment he was working on had a list going. The first five things on that list were:

1) Primarily Soul �“ With Voldemort �“ Not found �“ Yet to be destroyed
2) Split Soul �“ Morfin’s Ring �“ Found �“ Destroyed
3) Split Soul �“ Riddle’s Diary �“ Found �“ Destroyed
4) Split Soul �“ Merope’s Locket �“ Found �“ Destroyed
5) Split Soul �“ Nagini �“ Not found �“ Yet to be destroyed

The sixth item, ‘Split Soul �“ Hufflepuff’s Cup �“ Found’ was crossed out. In its place he scribbled:

6) Split Soul �“ Gryffindor’s Sword �“ Found �“ Yet to be destroyed

There was no doubt that Gryffindor’s Sword was the sixth Horcrux. Dumbledore had proudly told him that it had remained safe from Voldemort’s attempt to get it…but he had been wrong. He had missed the crucial clue that pointed to the fact that it was a Horcrux; Harry had somehow managed to summon it despite the fact that he had not known such a sword existed. It was comparable to the way Riddle’s diary had been drawn to him or the way he was drawn to Grimmauld Place when Merope’s Locket resided there. Worst of all, it was similar to the way he often saw things from Nagini’s eyes or felt Voldemort’s emotions. He knew that his ability to speak parseltongue was not his at all…it was the ability of Voldemort. He bent down to write the identity of the final Horcrux:

7) Split Soul �“ Harry Potter �“ Found �“ Yet to be destroyed

He looked into the ornate mirror whose glass was still broken. In it, he looked closely at his scar.

“One-seventh,” he read the scar that everyone had mistaken for a lightening bolt, “I’m one-seventh.”

Can you hear me?

The knock on the window startled him and he bent the tip of quill. He noticed a familiar looking owl and opened the window to let her in. He untied the note attached to her foot and gave her a piece of bread and some water. As he unfurled the note and looked over it, anger overtook him. Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed his cloak and ran from Neville’s house to a point where he knew he would be able to Apparate.

Hear me…Hear me…Hear me
Can you hear me?

Harry stood next to the large bushes in pitch black, seething with anger. How stupid could she possibly be? Taking off in the middle of the night without contacting anyone…it was insane! Now was not the time to be romantic or show foolhardy bravery. As soon as he ensured that she was safe, he would go back into hiding…if only to guarantee that he didn’t throttle her himself. It just wasn’t the time to act like an impetuous youth. Couldn’t she have picked a less dangerous way to show her feelings? Like sending a letter! Dean’s owl settled onto his shoulder as he recalled the letter he had received earlier that night.

Harry,

Ginny has left school to seek you out. If you have ever cared for her, I ask that you find her before any danger befalls her.

~Dean

What exactly had Dean meant…if you have ever cared for her…he had never hidden his feelings for Ginny. She knew exactly how he felt about her. Breaking up with her had been necessary, to protect her, and she knew that! Clearly Dean had been filling her head with nonsense about Harry’s true feelings. When he got his hands on that git…but for now, he waited for Ginny to arrive. He had no doubt where she would go now that she had left Hogwarts. The Burrow was as much her security blanket as it was his. The sudden shaking of the ground proved his guess accurate. The Knight Bus materialized out of thin air in front of the path leading up to the Burrow. The door opened and Ginny stepped down.

Harry felt his breath catch and his throat constrict as his mind went blank. He should have prepared himself for the sight of her, but realized that wouldn’t have worked anyway. Her beauty had always been intoxicating, it made him act like a besotted little schoolboy. Was it natural for a woman to have such an alluring mane of striking reddish hues, or eyes of chocolaty honey that made him want nothing more than to melt into them? All at once Stan Shunpike leapt down the stairs of the bus throwing himself in front of her like a sacrificial lamb. Registering his action, Harry made note to buy him something extravagant for Christmas.

“It’s alright Stan,” Ginny’s voice carried over in the wind as she cast Harry a strange look.

“Yah sure ‘bout dat?”

“Yes.”

Stan backtracked into the bus and with a pop the whole thing disappeared. Harry knew that now was the moment of truth. He had been waiting for her a long time, thanks to Dean. He dropped the cloak from this head to reveal his identity as they stared at one another. She opened her mouth to speak.

Hear me…Hear me…Hear me