Hermione looked behind her, the alley was clear. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, leaning her back against the grimy stone. It was just past three in the morning and the air was painfully cold as she pulled in breath after breath.

"Come out where ever you are dolly," a rough gravelly voice called to her from down the street. She knew that she couldn't stay too long.

Taking one more deep breath she shut her eyes tight and dug her nails into her palms, she was drained from getting little sleep and doing this took more effort than she remembered. She concentrated on the first place that stuck in her mind. She left like she was being sucked through a straw but being pulled apart all at the same time, and with a pop she collapsed on the wooden floor of the Shrieking Shack just outside of Hogsmeade.

--

Harry gasped as he heard something hit the floor hard just down the hall from the tiny excuse of a room he had been sleeping in. It took less than a second for his wand to flick into his hand and positioned in the ready. Peeking around the corner in a slight crouch, he nearly sagged in relief as he watched Hermione struggle to her feet.

"What are you doing here?" Harry hadn't been in contact with anyone in a solid month. Owls dropped by with packages of dried food every couple says, there were no letters attached. He was sure he couldn't handle the isolation for much longer.

Hermione seemed to jump out of her skin when she heard a voice; she had been hoping that wherever her mind had taken her that it would have been an isolated place. She had also prayed that it wouldn't splint her. She'd never been unfortunate enough to experience the excruciating pain of splinting, but there were horror stories on the subject.

It took her a moment to recognize the scruffy hair that hid bright green eyes and the scar that had come to symbolize the war that was currently being fought by all creatures that were fortunate enough to be a part of the world of Magic. A sigh of relief passed her dry, cracked lips.

"Harry," she lifted her hand weakly in a greeting, "They were in London."

Those green eyes, always seemed so bothered, but at that moment they held nothing put pure horror. London had been the safe hold of the Order. There were Wizards and Witches everywhere. Defensive spells around, over, and over the city. They shouldn't have been able to pass through those spells. It should have killed them if they tried to pass through. To learn they had failed was disturbing. If London wasn't safe…

"How?"

"Traitors," was the single word response she spat at him.

Harry didn't want to know who. He trusted the people of the Order and the idea of one of them betraying the cause that would bring them freedom, it made his stomach clench. Pushing the sick feeling away he motioned for her to come closer; they could sit in the room and talk. He had left over tack and water that magically refilled itself that they could share.

With shaking legs she moved forward, almost tripping, but using the walls for support she made it the relatively short distance to the room. The floors creaked and the wall paper pealed off in places when her fingers rubbed too hard against the small tears that weathering of time had caused.

They sat across the room from each other, on the floor, but still their knees almost touched. It was cramped but allowed them to share the small blanket that was draped over them. There was a small window that allowed only a little light when the sun was high in the sky, but it was not yet dawn so the room was nearly pitch black. At least it was before Harry had lit a candle that illuminated the room with its warm glow.

"Hermione, when did the Death Eaters breach London's shields?"