Taking in a breath, Harry pushed the book he had been skimming back across the table. With a tired sigh, he ran his hands over his face, trying to shake away the drowsiness that had settled over him. There seemed to be a constant dreary atmosphere hanging in the little tent he and Hermione had temporarily been calling home. The arrival of winter did nothing to dispel the quiet, sleepy haze; it only seemed to amplify its affects.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Harry stood from the table he had been sitting at, heading to grab a jacket. Pulling it over the thick hoodie he already wore, Harry braced himself for the cold. He stepped out from the tent, the frigid wind seeming to blow right through his layers of clothing. Attempting to sink further into his coat, Harry pulled collar up, doing what he could to block out the cold. With a resigned sigh, watching his breath cloud up in the winter air, he walked down towards the river, knowing that was where Hermione would likely be. She had made a habit of spending most of her time there while they were in the forest, either reading or just thinking. Harry didn't know how she tolerated the low temperatures, but he also knew just how mentally tough it could be to stay in their little tent. Something about it just stared to wear on him, day after day, being stuck in the same space with nothing to do other than question where the next Horcrux was, wondering what they had missed and why they hadn't found it yet. So, he understood her desire for a change or scenery.

Boots crunching in the icy, heavily packed snow, Harry made his way across the familiar path that the two of them had worn down, walking out to the river. With little trouble, he found Hermione, sitting up against a tree, a blanket over her lap. There was a thick, leather bound book beside her, though it looked to be untouched, or at least abandoned for the moment. Harry came to a stop just short of her, putting his hands in his pockets when the chilly air started to numb his finger tips.

"You should come inside and warm up for a little while," Harry suggested, a bit of concern edging into his tone. In the quiet forest, where the snow hushed sounds even further, his voice sounded louder than he intended. Though, Hermione didn't seem bothered by it. Instead, she didn't even appear to give it much thought.

"Yeah, maybe I will," she replied, somewhat absently, still looking out at the river. There was something off in her voice, he noticed, some twinge of something wistful, even sad. Though, it was well-masked, difficult to read.

Pulling her sleeves up over her hands a bit, so they covered all but her fingers, Hermione picked up her book and stood, brushing away the snow that had clung to her clothes. As she turned to head back to the tent, she offered a small smile Harry's way. He hardly saw it though. His attention went straight to her eyes, which were red and puffy.

"Your eyes are red... Were you crying?" Harry asked gently, drawing Hermione's attention.

Shifting her gaze down to the ground, Hermione turned away from Harry. "I'm fine," she said, starting off in the direction of their tent. Though, Harry knew she wasn't convincing anyone, not even herself. Her voice wavered, sounding small and unsure.

Harry stepped into her path, bringing Hermione to a stop. For a moment, only the soft crunch of snow under their boots sounded in the quiet woods. "Hermione," Harry said softly, a hand on her shoulder. If they started hiding things from each other now, there was no way they'd ever get through this mess. Though, even more than that, Harry was worried about his friend.

With a tired, resigned sigh, Hermione let her guard drop, her posture softening. "This war is serious," Hermione started lightly, almost hesitant. "Not everyone is going to make it through this."

At her words, Harry's mind immediately turned to Sirius, to Dumbledore, to Cedric. They had already lost too many, but he knew Hermione was right. It was impossible for everyone to survive this war, and when it came to it's end, it would be disastrous.

"You're a bigger target than anyone," Hermione continued, her words carrying too much weight. Taking in a deep breath, the cold air stinging her lungs, she looked up to meet Harry's gaze. There were fresh tears brimming in her eyes, threatening to fall.

"I don't think I can lose you, Harry," Hermione admitted, her voice thick with emotion.

Looking back at Hermione, Harry tried to take in her words, at their full value. It was hard to imagine someone caring that much for him, but he could tell by the look in her eyes that she meant every word. He had never seen her look at anything with so much concern and so much genuine sadness before. It hurt, somewhere deep in his chest, to see her looking so vulnerable and so worried.

Stepping in towards her, Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Hermione tucked her head under his chin, breathing in the calming, familiar scent of him, trying to stop the tears from spilling down her cheeks. Though, Harry's sweet reassurances only reminded her just how much she had to lose.

Gently pulling away, Harry offered Hermione a ghost of a small, the pad of his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "I feel the same way about you," Harry said, his voice hardly more than a whisper. "So promise me we'll make it out of this together." Taking Hermione's hand, his gaze met her's searching for some sign of agreement, a flicker of hope.

"Together," Hermione assured, lacing her fingers with Harry's.

And so, they went back to their tent, together, and destined to stay that way for as long as time would allow.