Ron was shocked at how easy it was to kiss Hermione, to hold her and be with her this way. After all the years of fighting, bickering, and probably driving Harry (and everyone else) completely mad, here is where they had ended up. And somehow, it felt perfect.
Ron pulled his head back as far as he could and gazed down at Hermione. Her face was flushed from their kiss, causing her scars to stand out vividly. Her deep brown eyes seemed hazy, gazing intently at the smile playing on Ron’s lips. Something was different; she had changed somehow. She looked older, more mature. Ron guessed it had something to do with her drastically shorter hair. It suited her, and in truth he found it immensely appealing. Ron could feel himself blushing and hastily looked down and away from Hermione’s face.
Wait a second, Ron thought as he took in the rest of Hermione. Those look like… “Hermione… are you wearing my clothes?” Ron asked, a small grin on his face as he looked back at her face.
The dazed look in Hermione’s eyes suddenly faded, Ron’s words bringing her back to reality. Blushing crimson, Hermione stammered, “Oh, well, uh, yes they are your clothes. I couldn’t very well walk around in that hospital gown though, could I?” She looked very flustered.
Ron, deciding to spare her any more embarrassment, gently planted a kiss on Hermione’s forehead. “What’s mine is yours,” he whispered softly.
“I would have put my dress robes back on, but I imagine they were ruined after the blast,” Hermione mumbled quietly, as if she’d meant to say the words in her mind. Ron’s stomach clenched and he began pulling away before he could catch himself. He tried to cover up this reaction, but Hermione had noticed. “Ron…” she said softly trying to catch his eye.
He couldn’t look in those eyes. She would pull the emotions out of him that he desperately needed to keep at bay. Now was not the time for grieving.
“Ron, please look at me,” Hermione said with a small pull of urgency in her voice. She lifted her hands and turned Ron’s head to face her own. As their eyes met, Ron knew she’d seen it all, every thought and emotion he’d been fighting to contain since the battle had begun. Small tears welled up in her eyes.
“Oh Ron, I’m so sorry!” she said weakly. “I didn’t realize that Percy…” her voice trailed off as she said Percy’s name. She wordlessly looked down at her feet, shaking her head slightly as if trying to ward off an annoying bug. “It’s my fault!” she finally gasped, “If I’d only gotten to him sooner, I might have been able to stop him! It’s my fault!” Ron saw a few tears escape her eyes before she clasped her hands over her face, her shoulders trembling gently as she fought to control herself.
Ron was struck temporarily speechless. Mutely he wrapped Hermione in his arms, pulling her close, slightly confused by her confession of guilt. “Erm, Hermione, it wasn’t your fault,” Ron said awkwardly, desperately wishing she would stop crying. “Besides… I almost lost you, too.” Hermione sniffled against his chest. “In fact,” Ron continued, sensing his words were making an impact, “I have half a mind to lock you in this closet till the fight is over.” That statement did the trick. Hermione pushed herself away from Ron, an all too familiar indignant look on her face, her tears momentarily forgotten. “Just a thought,” Ron held up his hands in mock surrender, grateful that she had stopped crying.
“Honestly, Ron, you’re as bad as Harry,” Hermione said, whipping one last remaining stream of tears from her cheek. “Harry. Ron, where is Harry?” she inquired, her eyes shining with sudden panic.
Ron knew she’d seen the truth in his eyes before he’d even spoken. The look of loss, of complete hopelessness, consumed her features. “No one has seen him for hours,” Ron finally spoke, his voice stiff. “Not since I took you to St. Mungo’s…” Ron trailed off, fighting the urge to scream at the injustice of the whole day. He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling to avoid seeing Hermione’s worried face. Why of all days did they have to attack today? Ron raved internally. And why is it always Harry? And why didn’t they leave bloody well enough alone once they took care of him! Ron growled audibly as this last thought formulated.
Hermione was standing very still, her face emotionless, obviously lost in thought. “So, you don’t know for sure if they have him or not?” Hermione finally asked, her words painfully tense.
“No,” Ron replied truthfully. “But nothing else makes any sense! He would be here, fighting with us, if they didn’t have him. You know that! But at the same time, you’d think someone would have seen him taken. In fact, I haven’t seen anyone in ages. Something just doesn’t feel right. If the Death Eaters were after Harry in the first place, then wouldn’t they leave if they’d already gotten him? And where has everybody disappeared to? And why in the bloody hell were four Death Eaters after me at once?” Ron finished with an exasperated tone, running his hands through his already disheveled red hair.
Ron looked to Hermione, almost out of habit, hoping to see that look of triumph in her eyes when she understood something that no one else did. Instead of seeing a satisfied look of understanding, however, Ron found a look of sick horror at whatever truth she had just realized. “What’s up?” Ron asked eagerly.
“Ron,” Hermione said in a whisper. “Do you remember the conversation we had with Harry a few months ago? The night after returning from a meeting at Grimmauld Place, with the Order?”
“Yea, I think so,” Ron said, still slightly confused. “Why?”
"I think I know where Harry is," Hermione replied wearily.
Hermione was experiencing a sensory overload. In the past few hours she’d been horribly injured, cast a spell on a little old woman to sneak out of a hospital, found her best friend being tortured, been whipped unceremoniously by him into a tiny closet where he’d snogged her senseless for a moment, only to now reveal that his brother, Percy, was dead, and their other best friend, Harry, was missing. She could feel herself approaching that threshold where no new information could get into her mind as Ron continued.
“And where has everybody disappeared to? And why the bloody hell were four Death Eaters after me at once?” Some of Ron’s words echoed through Hermione’s head as she tried to wrap her mind around everything at once.
They attacked during the wedding.
Why? Seems silly with so many people around.
They must have been after Harry; they knew he would be here.
Then where is he now?
Everyone else is missing, too.
Except for Ron…
They sent four Death Eaters to get him at once.
But why?
A vague memory started to press its way into Hermione’s brain. She tried to block it out at first, there was far too much to process already. It kept nagging at her until the reasonable part of her mind finally paid attention.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked quietly through the kitchen, wishing longingly for a good nights sleep. The Dursley home was far from welcoming, but they were too exhausted to care. Ron yawned widely, his face contorting strangely. Hermione chuckled, and then looked at Harry. He seemed very distracted, his pace far slower than she and Ron’s.
“Harry, is everything alright?” Hermione whispered quietly, stopping in her tracks to look at him fully. Ron followed suit, wiping his eyes tiredly as he gazed at his friends.
Harry stopped walking and put his hands in his pockets, obviously lost in deep thought. It had been a long evening, Hermione new. Perhaps he was just playing it over in his mind? It had taken them all by surprise when half the Order had turned up at his Aunt and Uncle’s house, filled with concern that Snape knew the location of the Order of the Phoenix’s hideout and a desperate request to find a new Secret Keeper as soon as possible. Harry had stepped up right away. It was his house after all, the house he’d inherited from Sirius. But Hermione had thought there was more to it than that. More to his eagerness to take the job than the simple fact that the house belonged to him. “Harry?” she tried again.
“I’m worried,” Harry finally replied quietly, and indeed he looked it.
“Worried about what?” Ron asked tiredly, walking closer to Harry as he did so.
“Worried that we are too trusting,” Harry said stiffly. This was not what Hermione was expecting to hear.
“You mean with each other, or with everyone else?” she asked for clarification.
“I would…and do… trust you two with my life. No, we have to trust each other fully. It’s everyone else that I’m worried about,” Harry replied, looking Hermione in the eye.
“You mean the Order?” Ron asked quizzically.
“Well think about it. We all trusted Snape, and look where he ended up! Imagine all the things he’s been passing to Voldemort this whole time! Is it really so hard to believe that others would be capable of the same thing?” Harry asked, obviously trying to wrap his mind around his frenzied thoughts. Hermione didn’t like to admit it, but she knew he had a point. It was impossible to tell if everyone was fully trustworthy.
“That’s why you wanted to be Secret Keeper. Isn’t it?” Hermione said softly, taking a step closer to her friends.
“Tonight I just willingly gave access to some people. Just assumed they were on our side. Let them in, no questions asked. I know it’s my right to pick and choose who gets information, but what if someone I trust ends up not being so trustworthy after all?” Harry finished, shrugging his shoulders.
“Well, has anything happened to make you suspect someone’s not being truthful?” Ron asked, a look of trepidation about him as he waited for an answer.
“Yes,” Harry said simply. “I told no one my plans for this summer. Originally I’d been meaning to go off on my own, to my parent’s house and then who knows where next. Things changed rather quickly after Dumbledore’s funeral, so I naturally didn’t have time to discuss the changes with anyone other than you two. So tell me, how is it possible that at least five different Order members have come to me expressing how happy they are that I decided to attend the wedding first before going to Godric’s Hollow?”
Ron gaped at Harry, and Hermione felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. “We didn’t say anything to anybody, mate, we swear!” Ron said dumbly, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I know you didn’t,” Harry smiled weakly. “But who knows who overheard our discussion by the lake. Hell, someone could be near us right now! It’s just… people talk. Sometimes they may not even realize the damage they are doing by telling what they know to others.”
Ron and Hermione nodded blankly. It was hard to accept the idea that someone could be so loose-lipped, especially when it concerned Harry. “So what can we do about it?” Hermione finally asked, exhaustion creeping in.
“I’ve already done something,” Harry confessed, looking slightly unnerved.
“What?” Ron and Hermione said in unison.
Harry stood still for a moment, as if pondering what to do next. He had a guilty air about him, as if he were ashamed of himself. Quietly, his face dismal, Harry took a few steps closer to Hermione, motioning for her to incline her ear his way. Listening intently, Hermione heard Harry take a shuddering breath before whispering, “I told a lie.”
Hermione felt sick to her stomach, a heavy sense of foreboding settling like a cloud around her. “Ron,” Hermione whispered. “Do you remember the conversation we had with Harry a few months ago? The night after returning from a meeting at Grimmauld Place, with the Order?”
“Yea, I think so,” Ron said slowly. “Why?”
“I think I know where Harry is,” Hermione said, hoping that she was somehow wrong.
Author's Note: Yea, I know, that was a wicked cliffie, but it really made sense to stop the chapter there! I'm writing the rest as fast as I can (I've very excited about where we are heading!!), and will update as quick as humanly possible!!