PROLOGUE

Hollow were the veins, reaping what they sewed in knowledge. Interchangeable expressions passed between the trifecta. Raven, crimson, chestnut. Her cheeks roasted embers from the chill of the September morning. Flames held her a little longer than the night, stroking her spine and leaving a lingering kiss upon her jaw. Wet and sloppy. Perhaps it would improve, and measure up to the passion she felt in Salazar's chambers. His arms were stiff and awkward, less reassuring than during the battle. She felt lead in her stomach, which made it drop into her shoes when he pulled away from her. Green eyes blazed with a sort of mischief that she suddenly found herself missing. He had no idea.

"Promise me you'll write this year." Hermione's voice trembled a little when she realized that the moment she set foot on this train, she would be without them. Like losing a right and left hand, the girl suddenly felt handicapped. She gulped down her abandonment issues, reaching out to straighten Ron's jumper, even though it was hardly out of place. "I would really appreciate it." The encouragement was more to the boy with fire in his hair, but when he had refused to nod, Harry had done it for him.

"We will." He said, his tone solid and reassuring. Her stomach sank a little more into her shoes, filling them with a heaviness that almost disabled her from movement entirely. The raven-haired boy with round glasses and blinding green eyes slipped between the apparent couple, wrapping his arms firmly around Hermione's waist. She sniffled into his shoulder and clutched him very tightly to her chest. "I'll keep him out of trouble." He jested, making a small chuckle whisp from her mouth, dribbling with silent tears onto his jumper. He patted down her wild curls for effect, frowning to find just how stiff her neck was from the stress of this kind of goodbye. Hermione could have sworn that she felt his eyes close as his chin met her shoulder.

He would miss her. He said it in the way he squeezed her waist and pulled back to drink in the familiarity and comfort of her face. Hermione nodded in response, needing little else than the brief longing that flashed across his emerald eyes. Harry nodded back, forcing himself to release her, knowing that he could seek no such comfort anywhere other than her. Catastrophic war had caused links to thicken and loop tighter tendrils around the trio. Separation only caused anxiety. What if something happened and he was not there to save her? What if Hogwarts was not safe? Hermione could see the minor interruption of concern on his face and, for effect, shook her head with her traditional knowing smirk, reaching up to clasp the side of his neck. He tensed under her touch, instantly reminded of her being an island when he found her palm to be smooth on his scruff, confident and calm, in spite of the wariness in her gaze, which now glimmered with restrained tears.

"Don't." She said, making Harry nod in return, guiding his fingers around her wrist to squeeze for effect. The Hogwarts Express released a howl of warning, billowing through them. It rumbled in their chests and Hermione's shoes felt a little lighter from the comforting familiarity that resounded around them.

"Better get going, then." Harry said finally, gently tugging her palm from his neck. He gave her a telling smirk, unable to hide that longing in his eyes. He knew the cost, he knew her passion. It was with Hogwarts, where his was not. "Before I do." He justified, making a single whisper of a laugh bleat quickly past her lips. A staccato humor, Harry mused as he smirked down at her. She tucked a wry curl behind her ear and he appreciated her bookish prettiness just for a moment. He recalled her eyes being set with an uncanny sort of bravery, glinting with telling danger, whipping spells at Snatchers like it was nobody's business. Clever Hermione. He thought to himself, and Hermione could tell with a heavy tint of red in her cheeks, that she was being thoroughly loved by her best friend.

"Alright." Hermione said, swiping at the tears trickling along her cheeks. "Alright, I'm going." She stepped away from Harry. They looked at one another with understanding, knowing that this type of space would only worsen. Ron's expression contorted in surfacing sadness, hating to see love leave like this. Hermione forced a smile and gave them a timid, humble wave for a farewell, right before brushing her clean palms on her denim-clad thighs. She gave them one last lingering look, implementing every fiber of them into her well-defined memories. Moving her feet felt like erupting earthquakes as she turned away from Harry and Ron, looping her thin fingers around the bar beside the entrance to one of the train cars. Hoisting herself up, she was scaling Mount Everest, forcing herself not to look back as she disappeared into the contraption and made her way to one of the compartments.

Harry Potter felt Ronald Weasley's hand create a firm grip around his shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts. He felt a sense of desperation climbing up into his throat as Hermione had vanished from sight, only to appear behind glass, looking out at them from what he saw as a cage. Willing and docile. She had a stiff, rigid spine as her eyes traveled repeatedly between the two of them. She had lifted her hand briefly, almost tempted to wave them into the cage with her, but she thought against it. Harry knew better, and so did Ron. The duo frowned, visibly suffocated by the space.

"She'll be alright, mate." Ron managed, though his voice choked halfway through the cliche sentiment. Harry frowned further.

"Yeah..." Harry trailed off. Ron gulped audibly, knowing precisely just what words dropped off from his best friend's lips. We won't be, though. The statement, though mute, rang truer than the horn blasting from the Hogwarts Express one final time as the steam billowed in white clouds from its stem and it jerked into motion. The Golden Duo, suddenly helpless without the brains of the operation, stood glued to their spot as Hermione's form retreated. Light from Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters blocked her from view and Harry and Ron simultaneously tilted their heads just in time to catch a glimpse of another precarious wave. They both raised their hands once, but never waved when they realized it was much too late.

"Jus' hope she can survive without us." Ron managed.

"Suppose so." Harry replied, knowing his redheaded friend's usual means of defense.

"'S just as well, I reckon. She'll be running right back to us, come Christmas. Teary 'n desperate." Ron's voice was a little choked.

"How d'you figure that, Ron?" Harry asked, a mild irritation in his voice.

Ron shrugged in response. "Saw Malfoy stepping onto the train while you were sayin' your goodbyes."

Harry froze for a moment, a sense of jealous possession swarming his gut. Albeit furious that Ronald had refused to say anything up until this moment, Harry swallowed a wad of frustration. War tainted most, but the Malfoy family was just a name that teetered a very dangerous brink. Not evil, nor good. They just were and Harry never truly found the courage to accept such terms, particularly so fresh after the near-end of the freedom of the magical world. After clenching and unclenching his fists a few times, he stepped consciously away from the visual of the retreating rear of the Hogwarts Express.

"She'll be fine." Harry reasoned, more for himself than Ron, who now had his mouth scrunched to the side in mild concern for the raven-haired boy's temper. "You heard her. She's on a mission."

Ron nodded firmly as Harry turned back to face him, practically ripping his eyes away from the familiarity of that train. Potter suddenly wished he had reconsidered; that he had climbed aboard and heeded Hermione's almost-wave of welcome. Ron, on the other hand, felt a fraction of relief that space was being given, and that Hermione never truly stopped being Hermione.

"Yeah." Ron forced a small scoff, tugging on Harry's arm so the two of them could vacate the platform. "We both know how terrifying she can be if anyone gets in her way."