Hello all! This is my first fanfic... Big Dramione shipper. Erm-would appreciate reviews. Be patient with me, this is going to have alot of build-up. If I get some reviews I'll have the next chapters posted fairly quickly. Hope you like it!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise/story/characters. All praise to our Queen, the lovely J.K.

Chapter 1

In her mind, she imagined an uneven, dirt ground, nearly blanketed in leaves and pine needles. In the ground, she mentally planted numerous trees and brush. Trying so hard to picture this place she once knew, she felt the reassuring pressure of friendly fingertips on each arm, turned on her heels, and opened her eyes.

This place was just as she remembered it. Nothing's changed, she thought. After all this time, she had never thought she would ever see another sight that remained in its former state. Everything had changed since she was last here. It almost seemed odd that there was anything left. Sad, that this was the one last thing about her world that hadn't been completely turned upside down. Yet, she added with a sigh.

"Hermione," she heard a voice call from somewhere behind her, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Hmm? What is it, Harry?" she called back over her shoulder.

"Some help over here."

Turning, she locked eyes with Harry, standing only a few feet away as he clutched his left wrist with his other hand.

"You alright, mate?" Ron shouted, apparently somewhere in the other direction.

"Yeah," said Harry, sucking air through clenched teeth. "Just got caught on a branch, I suppose."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione groaned. "What've you done now? Here, let me help." She pulled open her bag, magically altered with an Extension Charm, and rummaged around a bit before pulling out some gauze and a small bottle labeled Essence of Dittany.

"Here," she said, dabbing at the blood on her friend's wrist, "It's not so bad." Opening the Dittany, she dribbled some onto his wound and watched as it magically resealed his skin. "There," she murmured.

"Ah… Thanks, 'Mione," Harry sighed, looking up at her.

"Don't mention it," she replied, offering a weak smile.

"Hermione," Ron started, having drawn closer to the pair as Hermione returned her medical supplies back to her bag.

"Yes, Ron?" Hermione said, turning to face her other best friend. For reasons unknown, her eyes were drawn to his matted head of red-orange hair, even messier than usual. The rest of him looked no better. With eyes sunken into a dark, discolored face, she found herself become extremely sad at the sight of his hopeless demeanor.

"Where have you taken us now?" Ron questioned, looking up at a thin canopy of barren tree branches.

"The Forest of Dean," she replied. "I've been here once before, with my parents on summer holiday…" She could feel herself tearing up. "It all seems so long ago, so far gone," she choked. Merlin, Hermione, get a hold of yourself, she silently scolded. But she couldn't. The tears began to flow as she coughed short, broken sobs. Ron intuitively put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into his chest as she cried.

Harry rubbed her shoulder with a comforting hand. "It's alright, Hermione. Everything's alright."

"Oh, Merlin, look at me," she choked out between sobs. "I'm so sorry, I've been so tired, and I-I"

"Shh, now, 'Mione," Ron said reassuringly. "We know how hard all this has been on you. On all of us."

"I know," she cried, "But that doesn't mean I have to go and-"

"You'll feel better once we set up camp," said Harry.

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "It's bloody freezing out here. We'll make camp and then we'll set you down with some hot tea and a good book, yeh?"

"Alright," Hermione managed. Turning to see both of their sympathetic and knowing faces, she realized how lucky she was to have two such good friends. No one else could ever possibly know what she was feeling at this moment except for Harry and Ron. They had been so strong throughout everything they had gone through together. Overcome with a great feeling of relief and gratitude, she threw her arms around both of them, feeling right at home as they wound their arms around her. "Thank you," she whispered.

"'Mione," Harry laughed, "You're nodding off. Put that book down and go to sleep, why don't you?"

Hermione, looking up from her book, gazed at Harry with drooping eyes. Yawning, she mumbled something that sounded like, "Izz 'uite good, you know. You should read it sometime."

"Yeah, sure Hermione," Harry said with a chuckle. "You consider that light reading. I consider it a month's worth of homework." Turning to Ron, who was seated on a cot in the far corner of the tent, he added, "One nice thing about being out here in the middle of nowhere is the fact that we don't have to worry about our marks."

"I hear you, mate," Ron answered. "But might I remind you that we are fighting a war on opposite sides of a number of our old professors, anyway."

Harry was about to reply, but was stopped short just as he opened his mouth by Hermione, who had loudly clapped the pages of her book together, apparently announcing the finishing of her book. "It's too loud in here to read with the two of you, anyway," she said with a sarcastic smile.

"I'll take the first watch, then," announced Ron, who slowly rose from his position on the cot and stretched out his back.

"I'll be out to relieve you in a few hours," called Harry, as Ron turned to leave.

"That's alright, Harry," said Hermione. "I'll take the next watch."

"Hermione, there's really no need, I can-"

"I'm perfectly fine staying up, Harry," she said. "Really. It feels good to have something to do, anyway. I feel useless around here most of the time."

"You're not useless, Hermione. You know that. We all know that," Harry said, walking towards her. "Now, get some sleep. You'll feel better. You look exhausted." He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and then retired to bed.

"Goodnight, Harry," she called after him. Sinking into her cot, she pulled her woolen blanket over her. Usually repulsed by its stench of mildew and itchiness, she was pleasantly comforted by its warmth. As her breathing slowed and eyelids fell, she welcomed the heavy, overpowering feeling of sleep.

"I've made you some tea," Ron heard a small voice mumble behind him. Turning his head, he saw Hermione, holding a small cup of a steaming liquid in each hand.

Checking his watch, he said, "You're early, 'Mione. You could've slept longer, I still had-"

"I was woken up," she said in a meek, raspy voice.

Alarmed, he stood up. "By what?" he asked, "Something in the forest?"

"No, no," she said, "Nothing like that."

"Then what was it?" he demanded.

"I've just been having these nightmares… It's nothing, really," she insisted at his concerned expression.

"Oh… alright," Ron said, "If you're sure."

"Of course I'm sure," she replied, holding out a cup of tea. Taking it, he gratefully sipped the hot liquid and sat back down on the bed of leaves covering the forest floor. She sunk down next to him, cupping her tea in both hands, which she rested on her lap. Her wild hair was pulled back into a messy bun at the nape of her neck, and as she tilted her head back, Ron was able to see her slender face in the milky-white glow of the moon. He stared at her, noticing each of her individual features. Her mouth was relaxed, producing neither a frown nor a smile as she gazed at the sky. And though he had noticed the appearance of the dark circles under her eyes before, they were exceptionally noticeable in contrast to her now pale, near-white skin.

"I worry about you sometimes, Hermione," he murmured, following her gaze to the sky, which bore a brilliant conglomeration of stars. He noted that they really were quite beautiful out here. He stared into space, losing himself for a moment in the light of the stars, far away from Hermione or the war or any of this horcrux business. He wasn't sure when, but at some point he was snapped back to reality. Not looking back at her, he rather sensed than saw her turn her head to face him.

"How do you mean?" she asked.

"I dunno," he said, "I mean I worry about a lot of people. Mum, Dad, Ginny, Fred, George… But they're not here, so I expect I worry about them because I can never be sure if they're really safe or not. But you…" He now turned his head to look at her. "You're here. I know you're safe. At least, for now. But why, when my whole family is so far away, and I can't see or talk to them, or even know if they're alive or dead… Why do I still worry the most… about you?" It was now that he looked into her eyes. Even though they bore dark circles beneath them, they still possessed the shine, the spark that was Hermione. For a moment he was almost sure that the light that shone from them was not from the stars, but rather the life that radiated from deep within her. He didn't dare take his gaze from that spot, even as she spoke.

"Ron," she started, "It's late, and you're tired. You should go on to bed, now. Get some rest."

He rose, and took a few tentative steps back towards the opening of the tent. "Hermione…" He paused.

"Yes, Ron?"

He was quiet a moment, thinking of all the things he wanted to say to her… of all the things he couldn't put to words. Reaching the entrance to the tent, eyes still fixed upon hers, he murmured:

"The stars are beautiful tonight."