Hermione dragged her trunk and cat carrier out of the taxi and took a moment to compose herself before entering the run-down tavern that the cabbie couldn't even see. She knew she looked a fright … her hair kept escaping her attempt at a bun; her face was blotchy from unbidden tears. It couldn't be helped. She'd done what she'd needed to do, as painful as it was, and now her only thought was to get as far as possible as she could from the world she'd originally left six years ago. Now her only thought was to get to safety, to the warmth and protection of familiar places, to feel familiar arms around her.

She took one last calming breath, looked to make sure that the taxi had re-entered traffic, and entered the pub. Tom the barman looked up as she entered, but she did no more than nod at him before heading to the fireplace. With a firm grasp on her luggage, she threw a pinch of powder into the flames and shouted her destination and disappeared.

In her upset state, the journey was so disorienting, she missed her landing, and tumbled ungracefully to the floor in front of the well-worn hearth.

"Are you all right?" Her best friend helped her up and to a seat at her family's large kitchen table.

"There you are, dear. We were expecting that you'd apparate." Molly Weasley brought a mug of tea and set it down in front of Hermione.

"I didn't want to splinch myself."

"There's a wise girl. Ron told me what you were going to do, poor thing. I'm so sorry, but you're a true Gyffindor, keeping your family safe while you're back at school."

Hermione squirmed uncomfortably. Ron obviously had yet to tell his parents of their plans. Not that she could blame him. In some ways, it was easier just to have her parents forget about her than if she'd had to explain to them about her quitting school to go on some adventure to save the world with two boys.

Ginny had let Crookshanks out of his carrier and stashed the basket, and now was starting to take Hermione's trunk up to her room.

"Leave that, dear," called her mother, "one of your brothers can bring it up when they get home. They should be back any minute. They went out to be fitted for dress robes for the wedding," Molly explained to Hermione.

"Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it's nothing, dear. We're glad to have you here. Why don't you girls go wait in the front room where it's more comfortable? We'll have lunch when the boys return."

Hermione almost forgot about her morning as she and Ginny traded gossip about various schoolmates and what they'd heard since the end of term. There wasn't as much gossip as usual, though, and neither Hermione nor Ginny had yet to hear from Harry, who was suffering out his last stay at his aunt and uncle's house, at Dumbledore's request. When the post owl returned her letter, Hermione rang his house, to be informed by Harry's uncle that Harry's cousin was being encouraged to use the owls for target practice with his new air rifle. She sighed. She guessed she couldn't blame the owls, then, for wanting to stay away. As always, his uncle wouldn't call Harry to the phone. But she knew that as difficult as it was for her not to have word of Harry, it was even more so for Ginny. She looked at her friend, who so often seemed to be able to stay young, protected as she was as the youngest in her family. But now she, too, looked older, careworn. This war had taken its toll on all of them already.

The weight of what was before them bore down on Hermione heavily, and she excused herself to walk in the garden. She stood near the fence, watching the gnomes scurry about, mentally going over the list of things she needed to accomplish before they set out on their hunt. In preparing other things, she had yet to study the books she'd retrieved before she'd left Hogwarts very carefully, but from what she'd seen whilst leafing through they contained exactly the information the trio would need for their mission.

Part of her brain registered the raucous noise of the Weasley men returning, then a few moments later, the slam of the back screen door, but mostly, she was intent on her cataloguing project, which was keeping her mind off of the task she completed that morning. Still, she jumped when she felt the large hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry," he pulled his hand back, unsure of what to do.

She looked up for a moment into his clear blue eyes, and all of her resolve to stay strong crumbled as she turned, buried herself in his chest and sobbed. Strong arms wrapped around her, enveloping her as she cried. His fingers weaved through her unrulier than usual locks while he murmured endearments and encouragements to her. Finally, Hermione stood back and looked up at him. "Sorry," she sniffed.

He reached in his pocket for a crumpled handkerchief and handed it to her. "Why?"

"For falling apart like that, I promised I wouldn't."

"Hermione, what you did today was incredibly brave and an incredibly difficult piece of magic on top of it. I can't imagine what it must be like for you, giving up your family."

"While your family is still here fighting the war."

"They've been fighting this war since before I was born. Yours … they wouldn't even have the means to defend themselves, should Death Eaters appear on their doorstep."

"I know I did the right thing by them, but why does it have to be so difficult?" Her brown eyes looked imploringly into his face, as fresh tears sprung from them.

He shook his head and pulled her close to him. "I don't know, Hermione. I don't know. I wish you didn't have to send them away. I almost wish we were going back to school again. I wish this war wasn't getting in the way." His tears were now flowing as well, as their foreheads touched. "I wish this whole war were over, that we could…"

"There you are!" Ron was puzzled by his sister's resentful expression as she approached them. "Mum said she'd sent you out here to get Hermione for lunch. She's wondering where you've got to." Ginny turned on her heel and sauntered back to the house.

Hermione once again wiped her face on the handkerchief. Ron used his sleeve. Then he wrapped his arm around her, and led her back to the house.

After the lunch dishes were cleared, Mrs. Weasley set Hermione and Ginny to wedding preparations. Hermione was magically tying candied almonds into little pastel-coloured tulle bundles, and Ginny was tying the bundles with golden ribbons and arranging them in baskets. Ron came into the kitchen after helping Bill to repair some of the trestle tables. He straddled the bench Hermione was sitting. "You ok now?"

She shrugged and nodded. "I will be. It's just going to take some time to get used to it." She met his concerned gaze and managed a small smile.

"What are these?" He picked up a finished bundle and dangled it from the ribbon, almost untying it before Ginny rescued it.

"They're for the wedding."

"Yeah, so paws off." Ginny scowled at him, scooping the rest of the completed favours into a box and stalking out of the room.

"Do you know what's with her?" He inclined his head toward the door.

"She's worried about Harry." Some of her usual know-it-all tone was returning and he smiled a bit in spite of his confusion.

"So are we all, but why is she taking it out on me?"

"Because Harry broke it off with her."

"And what? I didn't have anything to do with that!"

"Why would Ginny believe that? You always looked as if you were going to take his head off when they were together. And now that she knows that something is up with the three of us, it looks like Harry chose you over her."

"But that's ridiculous. I'm not even his type."

Hermione couldn't help but crack a grin. Encouraged, Ron continued, "But I suppose I do have the red hair," he quipped, shaking his head.

She laughed, and he laughed with her. "You're mad."

He reached over and caressed her cheek. "It had just been so long since I'd heard you laugh."

His hand dropped as he heard his mother's approaching footsteps, and Hermione applied herself to the task of tying the last few bundles and arranging them in the basket.

"Ron, dear, could you hang these tablecloths out on the line to dry?" His mother handed him a large, overflowing basket.

He rolled his eyes, and Hermione smiled at him sympathetically. "Just give Ginny time," Hermione advised. "You might even try talking to her."

Ron grunted his reply as he elbowed the door open.

That night, Ron was quiet at supper, and finally slipped out the back door before pudding. After helping to wash up, Hermione went into the garden with a dish of trifle. She found him in the orchard, flying in that way that she knew he was burning off anger and aggression. She sat on the fence and patiently waited; admiring the view, contemplating that that boy who once saved her from the troll was now more man than boy. His shoulders had become quite broad, and he was filling out, becoming more muscular, and losing the gawky lankiness he'd once had.

Finally, he swept down and landed not far from her, hurt and anger still burning in his eyes. He looked at her curiously, surprised to find her there. She offered the bowl. "I knew it was one of your favourites, so I saved you some."

He hesitantly took the bowl from her. He was still angry, but not with her, and he was trying to be careful not to let his aggression bubble over toward her as he'd let happen before. He sighed and slumped against a nearby tree. "Thanks."

She sat playing with a twig, while he ate his dessert. She took the bowl from him, retrieved her wand from her pocket, and banished the dish to the kitchen. Then she sat down beside him. He remained stiff, but softened somewhat when she placed her hand on his arm. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He sighed and blew his fringe from his eyes, looking up through the branches of the plum tree. "I took your advice and talked to Ginny."

"And you didn't like what she had to say."

"That prat who's supposed to be our best mate broke her heart."

She sighed. "I know. But I think he did it for the right reasons."

He looked at her incredulously. "Think about it, Ron, here we are, heading off God knows where, who knows if we're even coming back. And Harry can't have Ginny out there, he can't be worrying about her that way. Dumbledore was very specific with Harry about who he could tell. If Harry and Ginny were still together, she'd find a way to follow us."

"I suppose she would," admitted Ron.

"He broke things off with her to keep her safe, but also, I think, so he has something, someone to come back to."

Ron turned to her and grabbed her hands. "I don't want anything to happen to Ginny. I don't want anything to happen to you, either, Hermione."

She returned his tender glance until he continued. "Couldn't you stay back here? Perhaps we could rig some kind of mirror system like Sirius and Lupin and Harry's dad used to use. She scowled at him and pulled her hands away.

"I'm not staying behind, Ronald. Dumbledore told Harry to tell me about the horcruxes because I'm supposed to help him destroy them, same as you."

Ron sighed and leaned back against the tree trunk, looking up at the stars that were starting to appear in the darkening sky. He didn't want to fight with her, and knew that's what would happen if he continued down that path. He reached forward and eased her back so that her head was resting on his chest. He stroked his fingers through her hair while they gazed at the sky in silence.

It was Hermione who finally spoke. "You know he's going to try to talk us out of going, too."

"But why would Dumbledore tell him to tell us, except that we're meant to help him?"

"I know, but this is Harry."

"Well, if I can get past telling mum that we're dropping out of school and going off with Harry, I suppose I'll deal with him, no problem. If I have to, I'll punch his lights out. It would feel good after what he's done to my baby sister."

"When are you going to tell them?"

"I've been putting it off."

"I noticed," she observed wryly.

"I suppose I need to before the wedding."

"Harry's going to want to leave right after, so yes, before the wedding would be good. Probably before Harry gets here. If not, they may team up and try to stop us from going with him."

"I guess I could tell them tomorrow. Maybe it's best to get it over with."

She sat up and turned to look at him. She saw the worry in his eyes, and placed her hand on his cheek, feeling a hint of stubble. "It'll be ok," she assured him.

He started to protest until he remembered what she'd done that morning to her own parents. He nodded. They gazed now into one another's eyes, each reluctant to be the one to break the moment. Ron started to lean toward Hermione when there was a crash and two figures were flying over the fence.

"What have we here, Georgie?"

"Let's see," replied George, "it looks to me like ickle Ronniekins has got himself a girlfriend."

"Ooh," Fred crowed. "Ronnie's got a girlfriend, Ronnie's got a girlfriend," he sang.

"Bugger off, the both of you," Ron blushed, but Hermione noted that he didn't contradict them.

"Funny thing, Granger," Fred addressed Hermione. "I thought you were supposed to be the smartest witch of our age."

"She is," defended Ron.

"Then you'd think she'd have the sense to wind up with someone other than you," observed his brother.

All of Ron's anger from earlier in the evening welled up, elated for an outlet as he swung first at one twin and then the other. They hopped back on their broomsticks and hovered just out of range, picking up their singsong before disappearing on the spot as Ron swore at them.

"They're just being Fred and George," Hermione soothed.

Ron continued to grumble as he took Hermione's hand and they walked slowly back to the house.

Soon after they returned to the house, Hermione excused herself to go up to bed. It had been a long day. It hardly seemed possible that it was just this morning that she shared a cup of tea with her parents before performing a memory charm on them and seeing them off to Australia. She teared up a bit at the thought of it. As she dressed for bed, her thoughts were on Ron. Two weeks' absence from him had made her realize how much she depended on him. It had been a rough year for the both of them. Not the first time a row had lasted that long, but as the years went on; they seemed to need each other more. Being away and then seeing him again accentuated how much he'd changed. Not just the physical changes she'd appreciated in the orchard, but in some of his actions, too. Sure, he could still be an insensitive git, but some of the time, most of the time, he wasn't. And that way he kept looking at her, the way he touched her …

Hermione's reverie was interrupted by the arrival of Ginny. She, too, got ready for bed, and Hermione put out the lights before setting her wand on the bedside table. After a while, she heard a question coming from the other bed.

"Do you think he's all right?"

"Other than bored and going stir crazy, I'm sure he's fine."

"He hates it there. I made him tell me about it. It sounds awful."

"But he promised Dumbledore that he'd go. That he'd take the protection while he could."

"What else did he promise Dumbledore?"

Hermione was taken aback by the question. She knew that Ginny usually knew more than she let on. Hermione was quiet as she decided how much to tell. Ron was going to tell his parents tomorrow, anyway. "Dumbledore asked Harry and Ron and I to do something. We're going to have to go away. We don't know how long it will take."

"It's something dangerous, isn't it?"

"It will be more dangerous if Voldemort or his Death Eaters find out."

"I'm coming with you."

"Ginny, you can't."

"I can take care of myself."

"It's not that, you're brilliant, but Harry really does need you here. Just hear me out. There's a chance that we might not come back. Especially Harry. But I think that if he has something anchoring him, something or someone to come back to … well, he's more likely to come back at all."

"But you and Ron on the other hand,"

"Ron and I have parents, families to come back to."

"What if something happened to him, to Harry, what would you do?"

"It would … it would kill me, but I'd come back and find my parents."

There was a troubled silence from across the room. "Just what is it you lot are planning to do?"

"I … I can't tell you any more, Ginny. I'm sorry."

With a frustrated sigh, she changed the subject.

"What's with you and my brother, anyway?"

"What do you mean? What are you on about, Ginny?"

"Oh, I get it; you're not going to betray anything to his little sister."

"It's not like that, Ginny. I don't think of you that way."

"I know. Sorry. That wasn't fair. But back to you and my brother," Ginny turned over, eager for a juicy bit of gossip. "Are you two together?"

"I don't know. He hasn't asked or anything. But I don't think we're exactly not together, either." Hermione sighed.

"Do you want to be with him?"

"Yes," Hermione shyly squeaked.

"What about Viktor?"

"What about him?"

"Well, from the way Ron talks, it sounds like he's still afraid of stepping into the centre of something there."

"Viktor was never more than a friend to me. Sure, there was that one kiss. And Viktor even said things … things that suggested that there could be more. I've told Ron and Harry that time and again. I didn't think Ron believed me. But…"

Ginny waited. "But…"

"It's always been Ron. Since … I don't even know when. The troll? Helping Neville find his toad on the train? Does that sound ridiculous?"

"No more than my knowing that it was Harry when I read that book when I was four. I didn't even meet him for six more years, even though he wouldn't give me the time of day until this year, but I've always known."

They silently contemplated for a while.

"We're an odd lot, the four of us," Ginny observed. "Harry and his noble intentions, Ron in his jealousy. They're both so ridiculous, aren't they?"

Hermione giggled. "I suppose they are. And yet we love them both."

"Promise me something, Hermione."

"Of course. What?"

"Take care of them, will you?"

"I'll do everything … everything I can to bring them both back here when this is all over."

"Psst. Hermione!"

She looked up from the basket of linens she was putting away in the closet to the next landing, where Ron was pulling down the attic stairs.

"What?" She whispered back.

"C'mere a minute."

"What is it, Ronald? Your mother is expecting me back in the kitchen."

"I want to show you something." He climbed the ladder to the attic, and reached down to help her up. "My plan for when we go away."

"You were supposed to tell your parents this morning."

"I know," he rolled his eyes. "But I had to finish this … to show them. But I wanted to show you first."

"Ugh, what did you kill up here?" She retched at the odour emanating from every corner of the attic.

"Sorry," he said, handing her a handkerchief, which she noticed was soaked in his cologne. She gratefully placed it over her nose and mouth while he continued. "I know the smell is bloody awful, but that's part of my plan, you see."

He kept hold of her hand, and led her over to the corner of the attic, where something white and green and purple lay in a heap. As she got closer, she recognized it as the family ghoul in a pair of old pyjamas. "Ron! You didn't."

"I asked him first, Hermione. He's quite looking forward to sleeping below stairs and to sampling mum's cooking."

"What have you done to him?"

"Fred and George gave me a potion that makes it look like he has spattergroit. He's going to be me, so no one suspects anything when I don't show up at school." He turned to the ghoul and muttered an incantation. A mop of red hair spread from the crown of the ghoul's head.

Hermione looked on in amazement. "Well, if he's agreed," she looked to the ghoul, who nodded enthusiastically, "this is absolutely brilliant, Ron. Where did you get the idea?"

"I thought it up myself. As I said, I had Fred and George's help with the pustules. But they're always eager to try out new products."

She looked at him in amazement. He looked crestfallen and pulled away from her and hurried down the stairs, closing the door to his room behind him. Hermione followed, closing the attic door as she knocked on his door. There was no answer. After a moment, she went in and sat on the camp bed where Harry usually slept and looked at the miserable form on the bed. "Ron, what is it?"

"Nothing I shouldn't be used to by now, I suppose," he spat bitterly. "You're the clever one, Harry's the brave one, and I'm just here taking up space."

"Ron."

"No, it's true, Hermione. Why else would you have had that look of disbelief on your face when I told you the idea for the ghoul was mine."

"I'm sorry, that's not what I meant at all. It's just so perfect, everyone will think that you're home, and"

"And it's too brilliant an idea to come from the likes of me." He rolled to face away from her.

"Ron, that's not true." Hermione moved to the edge of his bed.

"Ron," he flinched as she placed her hand on his back. "You're a brilliant wizard. You're clever and brave and wonderful and I adore you. All you lack is a bit of confidence, really."

"Ron? Hermione?"

"That would be your mum. I'll go head her off for a while." She kissed the back of his head before she got up and closed the door behind her.