Harry and Hermione tore through the dead undergrowth of the woods of Little Hangleton as they trudged to the old Riddle house. Harry's heart was pounding; he was positive that the last Horcrux was hidden here…But what was it? He was burning to know, to finally have answers that he had been deprived of for sixteen years…
Suddenly, Harry noticed that Hermione was no longer beside him. He looked back, and saw her standing about five feet behind, her bushy brown hair tangled with dead twigs and leaves. Her expression was that of anxiety and of fear. She gazed up at the dark mansion looming over them on the top of the hill with increasing unease.
"Hermione? Let's go, we haven't got time to lose!" Harry cried; but Hermione didn't move. She looked terrified, and there was a cold, distant look in her warm amber eyes, as though she was somewhere else. Finally, she spoke.
"I'm afraid, Harry; I've lived my entire life usually knowing what happens next in everything…Be it a story in a book, or the chronological events of my own life…I've always known…But now, I don't know…I have no idea whether we're going to die, or whether we'll walk out of here unharmed…I just don't know, I'm so scared…"
Tears welled up in her eyes, and Harry's heart slowed to a dull, monotonous thud. He walked to her, and put his arms around her. She sobbed into his shoulder, and they stood there for a few moments, taking in the silence of the dead wood, and together fearing the dark path that lay ahead. A tear slid from Harry's eye down his nose, and he said gruffly to Hermione, "Hermione, no matter what happens, we'll be there for one another, won't we? Ron said he would meet us at the top of the hill, and he'll be there…Are you scared for Ron?"
Hermione sighed a deep, shuddering sigh. "I'm scared for all of us," she whispered. Harry nodded.
"We'll be OK. I promise."
Together they set back off through the dead brush, tightly clasping hands, and together they would brave what would lie ahead.