Hermione heard a sudden crack ahead of her and Ron whipped out of sight without a second glance. She stood stunned for a moment, letting the rain pour down on her, until reality hit. “Ron? Are you there?� she called, but she knew it was too late. Only the wind responded. Her eyes began to water, and soon tears mingled with the raindrops running down her face. She ran through the thick wood until she got back to the tent she had taken such painstaking care to conceal from passers-by. As she stumbled in, Harry looked up hopefully.

“He’s g-g-gone! Disapparated!� She crawled into the comfortable grandfather armchair and burst into tears yet again. She couldn’t bear to look Harry in the face as sadness crept upon him. He threw a heavy blanket over her shivering form, and her clothes soaked it with rain instantly. She cried for hours, remembering Ron’s angry words.

Around two hours after Harry went to bed, Hermione finally felt that her eyes had no more tears to cry. She crawled out of the cozy chair and washed her face, which felt rough to the touch and was still bright red. She wiped the water off her face and crawled into her own bed, which felt snug and warm. She decided against going to sleep; she knew Ron would flutter in and out of her nightmares. She instead listened to the raindrops pattering against the roof of their shelter, and she began to rethink the night.

It was true that she was disappointed about the lack of progress on the Horcrux hunt, but she didn’t want to run off like Ron did. The thought of his raging expression made Hermione expell a dry sob. She regretted not going with him, but she had promised Harry that she would help him. Of course, Ron wasn’t an ‘undesirable’ as she and Harry were, so he could simply walk back into his normal life and continue as if nothing had changed. She glanced at Harry, sleeping soundlessly in his bed as though he had no worries in the world. She wondered if he would take Ron’s words to heart, and if he did, whether or not it would make him more determined to find the Horcruxes and end the war.

Determined to keep herself awake, Hermione climbed out of bed and walked outside for a moment. A glimpse of sunlight peeked through the overgrown trees. She sat down on the ground, not caring that the thick mud would ruin her one change of clothing, and remembered the glorious feelings she had experienced the night before, when she had seen a ray of hope through the mess and chaos of their lives.

Ron had awoken her after sleeping for only a quarter hour and led her silently into the other room. He planted his soft lips on her and slipped his arms around her waist. After breaking away reluctantly from the kiss, he took her hands and looked deep into her eyes, and Hermione gave him a small nod. They both smiled and he lifted his shirt over his head. He wrapped his arms around her neck and kissed her again, making her weak in the knees. Hermione took off her shirt as Ron unhooked her bra and flung it away. Her lips moved to his neck and he emitted a low groan. She made a trail of kisses down his chest and abdomen, noticing his tightening pants. She grinned at him and started to take off his jeans.

Hermione knew now that she would never be able to express her love and passion for him again, and the thought broke her heart. Reminiscing about the night made her tearful again, so she stood up and brushed some of the mud off her ruined robe, then staggered back into the tent. She took out some cooking pots and started making breakfast. She heard Harry come in, but she didn’t think she could face him just yet. When they did sit down to eat, she only took one glance at him, making Harry break his gaze from her. At least he got a good night’s sleep, she thought miserably, noticing the absence of worry lines and redness under his eyes.

After filling her stomach at last, she packed everything reluctantly and slowly, sneaking glances into the woods when she thought Harry wasn’t looking. However, he seemed to be thinking along the same lines; Hermione saw him look through the trees searching for his friend every few moments. After putting everything away, taking down the spells, and obliterating every mark of their presence, she realized defeat and beckoned for Harry to come over to her. Glancing around one last time, Hermione knew that Ron wouldn’t try to come back. She grasped Harry’s warm, soft hand--

They got to their destination, which was more open and felt more cheerful than the last place they had been. Hermione, now filled with a new emotion-- guilt-- scrambled over to a moss-covered rock and hid her face. She knew she shouldn’t have felt all that in Harry’s hand. She felt mortified and angry at herself. Her boyfriend had just fled, and she had already felt heat with-- She couldn’t think of it. She heard Harry begin to set up the tent as she put the spells in place once again, allowing the comfort that Harry had somehow passed to her to fill her up. Her head spun with painful thoughts and feelings. She didn‘t understand how she could be sulking one moment, then feeling so wonderful only because a good friend had held her hand. Yes, my friend, she reassured herself. We’ve been friends for six years, and we will always be just friends. Ron is my boyfriend, and Harry will never be my boyfriend. She took a deep breath and put the growing remorse from her mind. She decided to ignore it for the time being, due to the pain she was feeling in her heart and head. She knew that she would have to discover her true feelings, but she did not know that she would one day have to choose: Ron or Harry.

Hermione spent the next few nights falling asleep with tears soaking her pillow. She knew that Harry could hear her, but something made her want him to feel something for her, something more than pity; maybe even more than friendship? Yet every time the idea crossed her mind, her eyes would begin to water and the thought would leave her mind.

Harry and Hermione continued to think of possible hiding spots for Gryffindor’s sword, but the ideas became far-fetched beyond all real possibility. When that long, circular conversation died out, they busied themselves talking to Phineas Nigellus, who took great pleasure in insulting them and trying to trick them into revealing their location.

Sometimes, though, Harry and Hermione sat in chilling silence, and she noticed, or maybe imagined, that Harry would sometimes look into her eyes for long periods of time, only to look away when she glanced back. She secretly hoped that he might be falling for her or starting to see her differently: their new situation made her feel reckless and rebellious.

Meanwhile, winter came upon them and chilly winds droned on outside their tent. Hermione often saw Christmas decorations and a cold feeling grasped her suddenly as she remembered the previous Christmas. She had seen her favorite cousins, Andy and Laura, who lived in America and were inseparable. They had all gone to Paris with their parents and had had a wonderful time. Although she had often succumbed to depression and lonely feelings when she remembered Ron and Lavender’s snogging session, her previous holiday had definitely been the best she’d ever had. This one, she imagined, would probably be the worst, with no conscious family, no friends, only Harry…

One night, she was sitting in an armchair reading her Ancient Runes book when Harry posed a question.

“Hermione, I’ve been thinking, and—�

“Harry, could you help me with something?� She held her book out and pointed to the rune at the top of the page. “Look at that symbol.�

Harry, feeling slightly disappointed that she had ignored his question, told her that he couldn’t read it as he didn’t understand ancient runes, but soon he realised that the symbol she was pointing to was Grindelwald’s mark. It was quite strange to find it in a book meant for children. When Hermione was finished pondering the mark, he plucked up his courage again and took a deep breath. “Hermione?�

“Hmm?�

“I’ve been thinking. I—I want to go to Godric’s Hollow.� She looked up and got lost in his beautiful green eyes.

She answered, “Yes. Yes, I’ve been wondering that too. I really think we’ll have to.�

He furrowed his brow. “Did you hear me right?�

She rolled her eyes, childishly toying with him. “Of course I did. You want to go to Godric’s Hollow. I agree. I think we should. I mean, I can’t think of anywhere else it could be either. It’ll be dangerous, but the more I think about it, the more likely it seems it’s there.� She stared at him intently and became slightly agitated when he answered her.

“Er— what’s there?�

“Well, the sword, Harry! Dumbledore must have known you’d want to go back there, and I mean, Godric’s Hollow is Godric Gryffindor’s birthplace—�

He cut her off. “Really? Gryffindor came from Godric’s Hollow?�

She fumed for a moment. “Harry, did you ever even open A History of Magic?�

A wide smile spread across his face, causing her stomach to squirm uncomfortably. “Erm, I might’ve opened it, you know, when I bought it…just the once…� He turned slightly redder when she grinned back, reminding her of how Ron looked whenever he became humiliated. Their conversation continued for an hour. However, once she started discussing disguises, she saw Harry’s eyes move out of focus, as if daydreaming, while he simultaneously tightened up down south.

“Harry?� she asked loudly. They had been discussing possible methods of stealing hairs for Polyjuice Potion for a quarter of an hour. He blinked and slid up in his chair, placing his hands peculiarly over his lap.

“Yeah, Hermione?� he said, and she grinned when he spoke her name.

“Is that the plan then?� she continued. Harry, clearly unaware of the question, opened his mouth in complete and utter confusion. She rolled her eyes. “The Polyjuice! We should probably wait awhile, maybe a week, until we’re completely prepared and ready. Alright?�

Harry’s face filled with disappointment. “So we’re not gonna be going soon?� he asked, looking straight into her beautiful brown eyes.

“Well, in a few days, maybe three or four. We need to have a foolproof plan, nothing can go wrong.�

Harry nodded. “Alright. Well, we better get to sleep so we can plan early in the morning.� They both walked into the bedroom, which they had been sharing since Ron had left. Harry changed and fell onto the top mattress, while Hermione slept on the bottom bunk. For about half an hour, they both lay under their piles of covers, minds churning and hormones raging, until Harry spoke. “Hey, Mione. Still up?� he questioned.

She cleared her throat and whispered, “Yep. I can’t sleep in this cold, you know?�

Harry, not seen by Hermione, smiled seductively. “Well if you’re really cold, I’ll come down and keep you warm.� He sat up, hot with anticipation.

“Oh, umm… I guess… okay,� she said more confidently, knowing she wouldn’t try anything, wouldn’t want to do anything with him…right?

“Alright. Coming down,� he said. He threw his blanket down and climbed to the floor. Hermione saw a look of glee shimmering on his face as he crawled into her bed. He threw the cover over them and smiled at her. She half-smiled back, afraid of what the outcome of this seemingly innocent seeming act could be. Harry put his warm comforting arms around her icy cold body.

She shivered even more at his touch. “H-h-harry,� she stammered.

“Mhmm…� he answered, enjoying holding her.

She released the tension she was holding and said, “Never mind.� She didn’t want him to let go.

They continued to lay in this fashion for a few minutes, Hermione feeling swept away by his touch, his grasp. She opened her eyes and stared into Harry’s breathtaking green ones, and saw him looking back at her. He moved in and kissed her. She sunk into his lips, but suddenly, he pulled back and climbed out of bed.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. I… I didn’t… umm…� He ran from the room and out into the night, leaving Hermione alone and confused. She looked up at his retreating back and touched her lips, which tingled with anticipation.

Hermione sat up and crept out of bed, but there was no sign of Harry in the tent. She called out, “Harry? Are you there?� but she received no response. She was reminded significantly of Ron’s abrupt departure. Sinking into the armchair in the den room, she struggled to keep her tears in.

He just tried to kiss me. He DID kiss me, and I let him, she thought miserably. I can’t believe I did that, especially when I’m dating Ron. She shook her head, as if it was too crammed with thoughts and memories.

Yea, but he left. He’s gone, out of the way. He CHOSE to leave.

Ron and Harry are, well were, best friends. You prefer Ron, and he never broke up with you, just didn’t want to be here.

With you.

He didn’t want to be with me, she deduced, stopping the dueling consciences in her head. She now understood why people used Pensieves. It was true, she wanted to be with Ron, but she didn’t have that choice now. In fact, the only person she did see, and would probably only see for a long time, felt attraction to her, and why should she give that up for an old love?

Hermione stood up abruptly, as if with sudden determination, only to sit back down, knowing that she shouldn’t go find him. I don’t even know what I want.

Ron left. If you thought that he’s going to sit around and wait for you, you’re sorely mistaken. He’s probably back at home, snogging some other girl, not thinking of you.

You and Ron had something special, more than just a friendship, more than just a fling. You had a strong relationship. He told you that he loved you, and he didn’t say it to get anything from you. He really does love you, and he probably still does.

HE HASN’T TRIED TO FIND OUT IF YOU’RE OKAY! If he still cared about you, he would want to make sure you’re alive and well. He hasn’t attempted to make contact with you yet, and you doubt he will. Face it, he’s over you.

Ron left because of his anger, not because he stopped loving you. And he wouldn’t be able to find out where you are. You change bloody locations every few days, and you made it so you can’t be found. He even knows that.

Her head was spinning faster than a provoked Sneakoscope. She had no idea of what to do, or what she wanted to do. She just snogged her (ex?) boyfriend’s best mate. Well, he technically kissed me, she remembered. I didn’t initiate it, but I didn’t stop it, she admitted. Truthfully, she had been waiting to kiss Harry since they grasped hands after Ron left and if he didn’t kiss her, she would have.

Right?

Yes.

Slutty?

A little…

Hermione’s stomach turned over when she heard noise outside, it was only an owl hooting and she remembered Hedwig, and Professor Moody, who had both died for Harry.

If I tried anything with him, I would mess with his head, and he wouldn’t be as motivated to get the Horcruxes.

Not that he is anyway…

…Maybe it would make him see that he had something worth fighting for.

But he liked Ginny, he’s been staring at her name on the Marauder’s map most nights. And he did go out with her, and they both liked each other a lot.

They broke up because he didn’t want to endanger her. And here you are, already in danger, perfect for each other. He is Voldemort’s biggest threat, and you’re a ‘mud blood,’ both outcasts of the Wizarding World. You should at least give him a chance.

That last thought rang in her head. The confused teenager grabbed the locket around her neck, a birthday present from Ron. He had bought it in early September when he took a trip to a nearby Muggle town to get food. And although it couldn’t be opened, Ron had explained that one day, it would open, at the right time. However, he would not explain the spell that he had put on it. Still, she always wore it, because it symbolized his love for her, and he stressed the importance that it stays around her neck, “because I will never stop loving you, Hermione,� he had told her.

She got up and shook the memory from her head. She let the necklace drop back around her neck and it made a soft clunk against Slytherin’s locket. Hermione tiptoed back into the bedroom, threw Harry’s blanket back onto his top bunk, and fell down onto her own mattress. She lay there for an hour, contemplating what to do. Finally, she decided what her heart wanted. What Ron would want, she thought as a tear slid onto the pillow.

A few hours later, Hermione heard Harry stumble back into the tent and shuffle into the bedroom. I’ll talk to him when he’s ready to talk about it, she decided as she drifted into a very comfortable sleep, knowing that she would soon settle the bubbling guilt she’d been feeling in the pit of her stomach.