The Early '98, a harry potter fanfic

Author's Notes: In my story 'Healing', I made Hermione say "What if either of us died and the last thing I did with you was being nasty and shutting you out?". What had originally been the result of my misconception of the time between Ron's return to the tent and the happenings at Malfoy Manor got me thinking of the things that might have happened during that time. And this resulted in the fic below.

The Early '98

The mild warmth of the December morning sun tickled Ron's face, but he did not feel the slightest inclination to start the day. Sure enough, he would open his eyes to the ceiling of his room at Shell Cottage with the prospect of spending another twenty hours or so thinking depressing thoughts of Harry and Hermione and beating himself up for pulling the unforgivable and most idiotic feat of abandoning them Merlin knew how many weeks before. Screwing up his face, he rolled onto his side, buried his face into his pillow and willed himself back to sleep. And that was when he realized that something was different. He was lying in a bed, that much was certain, but his pillow did not bear its usual seaweedy smell and, come to think about it, he could not make out the sound of the waves crashing against the cliff that the cottage was sitting on. Confused, he slowly blinked his eyes open and looked around and his heart skipped a beat.

He was not at Shell Cottage.

He was in the tent.

The tent he had shared with Harry and Hermione.

He had found them.

After all those dire weeks of separation, he was back.

Back with his best friend and the love of his life.

Back where he belonged.

He had never been happier to start the day.

Hermione completely ignored him during the entire morning unless one counts the withering looks that she shot him every time he dared to open his mouth. He had not expected anything better and he knew that he deserved her silent treatment, but it was disheartening regardless. What surprised him, however, was the fact that she treated Harry very much the same as though he had done something horrible to her as well. It was a relief when Harry asked him to join him outside to search for water and food.

"Don't worry, mate," Harry said in a low voice once they were out of Hermione's earshot, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure that she was still sitting in front of the tent. "I know that she missed you a lot and that she's glad to have you back. Just give her some time."

Ron nodded to himself and then lowered his gaze to Harry who had crouched down to look for mushrooms underneath a bare-breached shrub.

"But what about you, Harry?" he asked skeptically. "Aren't you mad at me?"

Harry sighed, rising to full height and patting clean his jeans. He looked pensive, contemplating his answer.

"Not really mad, no," he said slowly. "I admit I was shocked at first but I'd lie if I said that I hadn't seen it coming. I mean, the things you said were true, weren't they? I don't have a plan and it was unfair of me to let the two of you join me in the first place."

Ron' stomach stung with remorse. "Harry-" he started, his mouth dry, but the bloke shook his head, cutting him off.

"I was madder at myself than of you, Ron," he admitted. "And I had to take care of Hermione..." Ron felt another pang of guilt. "...I was afraid she'd leave as well."

"I'm sorry," Ron muttered, his insides burning with shame.

"I know," Harry said, curving his mouth into a smile. "I knew it the moment you came back. And I'm glad you're here again."

A surge of affection for his friend rushed through Ron, and it swept aside his bad feelings far enough to make way for the elation that he had felt after waking up.

"We do have a plan, you know?" he said and a broad grin crept onto his face.

"What d'you mean?"

"The sword," Ron said, feeling excitement rise up in his chest. "We can destroy the Horcruxes now! And we even took one down! That is something, isn't it?"

He laughed out happily and started to pace to release some of the feverish energy that was building up inside him.

"Someone helped us. Someone sent that doe. Someone's on our side. One Horcrux down, mate!" [1]

The instant they returned to the tent and Hermione's icy stare, Ron's high spirits vanished. While Harry hid behind his copy of 'Flying With the Cannons' and eventually drifted off into a slumber, Ron tried to follow Harry's advice to keep a low profile and give Hermione the space she needed. But his task of attempting to turn the mushrooms into something that resembled an enjoyable meal could not distract him from the nagging feeling that was eating at him. Sighing, he decided to give it up. He made a cup of hot chocolate, grabbed a blanket from his bunk and made his way outside. His face was hit by a cool breeze when he stepped into the tent entrance where Hermione was sitting.

"Hermione," he said, his voice only slightly raised above a whisper.

She showed no sign of hearing him.

"You must be freezing," Ron stated. "Here, I brought you something. A blanket... and... and... a cup of... chocolate."

To his frustration, she neither moved nor spoke, not even when he placed the cup onto the ground before her. Deciding that he must appear uncharitable if he simply put the blanket to her feet as well, he nervously unfolded the blanket and draped it over her shoulders. She did not fight him off but she did not show any other kind of reaction either.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

No answer.

"Listen," he then started, settling down beside her but ensuring that there were a few feet of distance between them. He did not want to appear intrusive.

"I know you're mad at me and you have every right to be so," he said quietly. "I've been a selfish arse and I failed you and I'm sorry." He let out a sigh and continued, "I really am, you have to believe me that. I don't know yet how I can prove it to you but till I find out, I'll do all I can to make it up to you. I promise. I'll never let you down again. I'll always be there for you."

"I know I can't undo what I did. I would if I could, really. But... I just hope that someday, we can be friends again. I... I need you in my life. Well... That's... That's it," he concluded lamely.

Hermione had not reacted to anything that he had said, her gaze firmly locked on some point on the ground several feet in front of her. Having the impression that he was getting on her nerves, Ron scrambled to his feet, swallowing, and crawled back into the tent. His insides squirmed when he dropped into his bunk and stared up at the wooden underside of the bunk above his. He had no idea if Hermione would ever forgive him, but at least she knew about his remorse now. If she had even listened to him, that is.

He did not know that a few minutes after he had left, Hermione pulled his blanket tighter around her frame, closing her eyes as she deeply breathed in his scent. She took the warm cup in between her freezing hands and a single tear trickled down her cheek.

Ron woke up in the early morning hours, feeling as though he had not slept at all. His head hurt as he thought of last night and the revelations from their visit to Xenophilius Lovegood. He did not know what to make out the new information. Like Hermione, he was inclined to pass it all off as a great pile of dragon poo, but then again, he could not deny that Harry's reasoning sort of made sense. As he scrambled out of bed, he turned to look at Harry's bunk. His friend was fast asleep at last; knowing him, Ron was certain that the poor lad had spent the greater part of the night awake, pondering.

He opened the entrance flap of the tent and, blinking against the brightness of the rosy morning sky, took a much needed breath of crisp, cool air.

Crisp, cool air mingled with a dash of vanilla.

He looked down and his gaze was met by that of Hermione who was sitting in the entrance, looking exceptionally tired after her night watch.

"Morning," he greeted her quietly.

"Morning," she responded as she slowly scrutinized him from top to toe him through narrowed eyes.

"You're still wearing that?" she finally said, her gaze resting on his ratty and torn jeans. Ron just shrugged. Like Harry, he had not bothered to change his clothes before going to bed.

Hermione sighed. "You're impossible," she said and pulled her beaded bag out of her pocket. "Accio Dittany!"

Ron knew where this was going to lead to. Through the holes in his jeans, the crusted cuts on his legs from the Erumpent horn explosion were still clearly visible.

His mind drifted back to a similar situation they had had in August, after their arrival to Grimmauld Place, when Hermione had wanted to heal the cut that she had had accidently inflicted on his knee earlier that day. There had been a bit of an argument because Ron had refused to use the Dittany as they would surely need it for more serious injuries later, and in the end, Hermione had resorted to simply grabbing his leg and applying the substance through the hole in his jeans, a gesture that, with hindsight, he found absolutely heartwarming, though he had never dared to say it aloud.

"Now-" Hermione begun and her voice brought Ron back to the present.

"I'm not taking off my pants!" he blurted out, still thinking of Grimmauld Place.

"If you think that I'm gonna heal your legs..." Hermione said menacingly. Her face had turned scarlet and he felt his own face heat up as he became aware of the implications of what he had just said. What had he been thinking? He was glad that they were on speaking terms again and now he thought that she would have him half-naked in front of herself while she treated his bare legs? Not even in their friendliest times would he have expected her to do such a thing for him. Shit, what must she be thinking of him now?

She thrust the bottle of Dittany into his hand. "Here, you do it yourself," she said tersely and turned away from him.

Ron turned on the spot, shuffled into the little bathroom and sat onto the toilet, looking at the tiny bottle in his hand. He did not want to waste the Dittany, but on the other hand... As mortifying as their conversation had been, it had shown that despite the awful things that he had done to her and the cold treatment that she had been giving him ever since he had returned, she still cared about him. And that she still trusted him enough to believe that he would take the Dittany without her around, even though she knew about his inclination not to use it. Or was it just that it did not matter to her either way?

Well, that was not important now. He wanted to be back in her good books and he would not give her any more reason to argue. And so, he removed his jeans and started to rub the Dittany into his wounds.

Ron woke up to the ominous feeling of being watched. Discreetly getting hold of Pettigrew's wand underneath his sheets, he warily opened his eyes just enough to see through his lashes. Everything was dark; it was still in the middle of the night. He slowly turned his head to where he sensed the possible intruder - and there it was: seated in one of the folding chairs around the little nearby breakfast table, he could make out the dark silhouette of a person who was, even though he could not see their face, unmistakably looking at him. Normally, this would have been a cause to either fight or to be paralyzed with fear, but for some strange reason, Ron knew that the person meant no harm. And so he simply remained lying in his bunk, curiously watching the stranger and trying to make out any of their features, but to no avail. And then, all of a sudden, a ray of light fell into the tent, probably released by a cloud that had finally made its way past the moon. And its silvery glow bathed the interior of the tent, softly illuminating curly hair and warm eyes. His heart hammered wildly near his throat as he realized who the person was, but he had barely processed this information when another cloud drifted in front of the moon and the room plunged into darkness again. Gulping, Ron turned his head back into its original position so that he looked up at the underside of the top bunk. And then, with full force, tiredness overcame him and he surrendered to the irresistible pull into unconsciousness with the elating knowledge that Hermione was watching him in his sleep, smiling.

When he woke up in the morning, he had no recollection of the night.

A loud bang and sparks that lit up the night sky startled Ron out of his reverie as he was sitting in front of the tent, taking watch. At first, he thought of a battle going on and he quickly scrambled to his feet, drawing his wand, but then he remembered...

"Happy New Year!"

It was Harry and Hermione who had come out of the tent to watch the fireworks. He felt Hermione's hair brush against his shoulder as she stepped to his side and he could not help stealing a sideways glance down at her. In the colorful light of the fireworks, she looked simply breathtaking. With a jolt, he remembered that it was a tradition in both the Muggle and the Wizarding world to share a kiss between lovers when a new year began. He inwardly slapped himself for this thought. If he dared to kiss her now, she would probably give him the thrashing of his life, her reaction to his return on Boxing Day probably a nice pleasant conversation compared to what he would have to expect. And yet, it was so hard to move his eyes away from those full, pink lips of hers which, albeit badly chapped from the biting cold, looked so very inviting to him.

Well, he could thank his lucky stars that at least she was not kissing Harry.

"This is excellent," Ron said, grinning broadly, as he turned the sword in his hands, taking in the magnificent rubies on its handle and the engraving below its hilt: 'Godric Gryffindor'.

"Excellent," he repeated happily. "Someone out there knows what's going on. Someone's helping us. Half the Horcruxes are already down and now we also have the means to destroy the blasted things. All that's left to do is finding the other three."

On the other side of the breakfast table, Hermione smiled weakly at him. "You're forgetting You-Know-Who himself," she reminded him. "And we have no idea what the remaining Horcruxes are, nor where to find them."

"Well, then we have to figure that out!" Ron said enthusiastically, banging his fist onto the table top for good measure. "Which places have we discussed so far?"

"The orphanage," Hermione suggested. Ron produced a piece of parchment and a quill and jotted it down.

"We've been there; there was nothing," he replied, adding an according note on his parchment.

"Borgin and Burkes," Hermione said and Ron wrote it down. "But we've already agreed that old Borgin would've recognized a Horcrux..."

"But can you be sure?" Ron asked. "Borgin's only human, he can make mistakes, and maybe You-Know-Who's Horcrux would be harder to be identified as one, if less than half his soul's in there. No, I think we shouldn't dismiss that yet. What else?"

"Albania. But..."

"But what?"

"We can't possibly search a whole country for an unknown object, Ron."

"Well, not the whole country," Ron mused, scratching his chin with the top of his quill. "But he must've had a reason to flee to Albania of all places when he lost his body. There must be some connection. Harry?"

Harry was sitting in the open entrance of the tent, taking watch. So far, he had not taken part in their discussion at all, but when he heard his name, he turned around. Ron did not fail to notice the irritable look on his face.

"What is it?" Harry asked testily.

"Do you know why You-Know-Who went to Albania?" Ron asked. "Is there any connection?"

"I have no idea," Harry said and turned back.

"Are you sure?" Ron probed, raising his voice to make sure that Harry heard him. "Dumbledore hasn't said anything?"

"No, nothing," Harry grumbled.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione piped up, sounding worried.

"I can't think..." Harry said, and Ron instantly knew that Harry was pondering on the Deathly Hallows. "...with you yakking about the stupid Horcruxes all the time. Are you guys seriously considering looking for one of them in effing Albania? You must be joking!"

"Well, one of them could be there," Ron reasoned. His insides squirmed when he remembered that months ago, a very similar argument had taken place, just with roles reversed.

"Yeah, good luck then," Harry scoffed. "You seriously want to search a whole country for those stupid things, I can't believe it" he added, muttering to himself.

"Well, at least we are trying to make some progress," Hermione said, bristling. "While you're just sitting there - thinking about those stupid Hallows, I suppose? Harry, please, don't you see that we need your help in this? You're the one who discussed You-Know-Who with Dumbledore. You're the one with the connection to his mind. Surely, there must be something that you've overlooked-"

"God, give it a rest," Harry growled. "You're giving me a headache. This whole Horcrux thing is turning into an obsession for the pair of you, you know?"

Ron felt his blood boil at this statement. But before he had the chance to vent his anger, Hermione beat him to the punch, voicing his very thoughts.

"Obsession? We're not the ones with an obsession, Harry. We're the ones trying to do what Dumbledore wanted us to do!" [2]

Ron sat on the couch, rapping his wand against the wireless that he had nicked from Shell Cottage and that was now resting in his lap while he muttered a string of possible passwords. Every now and then, he could hear Harry's attempts of doing magic with the blackthorn wand from outside the tent. However, he had just as much success at getting the spells to work properly than he, Ron, had at gaining access to Potterwatch.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Ron looked up and through the open mouth of the tent, he saw a wisp of silvery smoke soar up, contrasting with the darkening evening sky, but it did not conglomerate to form the familiar stag.

"Crud!" he heard Harry shout in frustration and a dull thud told Ron that he must have slammed his fist against the ground.

"He really hates me for breaking his wand, doesn't he?" Hermione asked unhappily, having walked over to the couch from behind. Ron turned his head towards her. She looked thoroughly miserable.

"He's just frustrated, 's all. It'll all be fine once he's got enough practice, just like you said," Ron responded quietly. He did not truly believe his own words, but doing what he truly wanted right now was just out of the question.

'No-one could ever hate you,' he thought tenderly while he fought his desire to put his arms around her and hold her tight.

Ron hated the night watch. The night reminded him of the time when he had run out on Harry and Hermione and of the seemingly endless days that he had to conclude by sleeping all alone in the cold after Hermione's voice out of the Deluminator had beckoned him to her. He wondered how he would have fared had it not been for the silver doe that had lured Harry out of the protective charms that surrounded the tent. He probably would have still been out there, all by himself, chasing after them.

Yes, he truly hated the night.

He was glad that the sun was rising now and took away from the darkness that had surrounded him. Soon, he would finally be relieved by Harry or Hermione, whoever felt more like taking the next watch. Being on the run let them only have so many possibilities of establishing fixed routines.

Nevertheless, there were a few points of consistency, steady pillars to hold on to in a time of utter chaos and uncertainty. They would normally take guard duty in three shifts: night to early morning, early morning to afternoon, afternoon to night. In the morning, while one remained on guard, one or two of the others would go collect food and water and after they all had eaten breakfast, they would pack their belongings and move on to a different location. The afternoon was normally spent with Horcrux discussions, food collection or means to distract themselves such as chess (Ron and Harry) or reading (Hermione). In the evenings, Ron would always draw out his wireless and try and tap his way into Potterwatch. Harry had made a habit of observing the goings-on at Hogwarts on the Marauder's Map whenever he thought that the others were not looking. And Hermione liked to rearrange the contents of her beaded back after settling down in a new place and she had taken to stargazing when she was still awake at night.

As he was sitting in the mouth of the tent, Ron heard the soft rustle of bed sheets break the silence, followed by footsteps that crossed the tent. More rustling, then the sound of Hermione's voice saying something that Ron could not understand, Harry letting out an almighty yawn, the clattering of dishes and then the smell of coffee wafted through the air.

And even though he was sitting there on the frosty ground, out in the cold, Ron felt at peace as he listened to his friends going though their morning routine. He was at home. In there were the two most important persons in his life, his family, the ones that he had thought to have lost forever. And he was proud of being here, knowing that they were real, only feet away, and that he was able to protect them.

And that made all the difference.

"I can do that!" Ron snapped, trying to get past Harry and Hermione who were blocking his way to the entrance flap. "You don't have to!"

Two days ago, Ron had woken up with a severely sore throat which had rapidly developed into a full-blown cold. Though he had tried his best, it was only for so long that he had been able to hide his symptoms from his friends and now, after he had spent the greater part of the day coughing and sneezing, Harry had decided to do the afternoon watch in his stead.

The thing was, he could not allow his friends to do his work while he was just sitting around. They had been forced to do it when he had been gone, but now that he was back, he wanted to make himself extra useful for them.

"Don't be stupid, Ron," Hermione said exasperatedly. "You go out there in your state and catch pneumonia, what a great help that would be! I don't think so."

"But-"

"Hermione's right," Harry agreed. "Give yourself a break, mate. It's all right. Hermione'll look after you," he added and winked at him behind Hermione's back. Ron felt his ears get uncomfortably warm.

His short loss of composure was all that it took Hermione to overpower him. Grabbling him firmly by the upper arms, she steered him towards his bunk and he had no choice but to walk along with her. Compared to him, she may be tiny, but just like Ginny, she was unsettlingly strong for her size.

His knees buckled as his calves bumped into his bunk and he plopped down onto his mattress.

"Lie down," Hermione said resolutely as she towered over him, hands on her hips. Ron could not help thinking that she looked quite sexy, all domineering...

He obediently kicked off his shoes and scrambled under the sheets. Once he was lying on his back, Hermione settled down on the edge of the bunk and he watched as she pulled his blanket over his shoulders like a mother would do for her child. The stern look in her eyes was gone and replaced by one that was gentle and caring as she smiled down at him and he looked up at her, his heart swelling with adoration.

And then the magic of the moment was destroyed as he threw a violent coughing fit.

"'M sorry," Ron muttered, embarrassed, as he settled back into his pillow.

"Don't apologize," Hermione said, brushing his fringe out of his eyes with gentle fingers. Ron closed his eyes at her touch. Never before had she done this to him. It felt beyond wonderful.

"I'm making you some tea, okay?"

Not waiting for his response, she removed her fingers from his hair and rose to her feet. When Ron opened his eyes, she had already reached the little kitchenette on the other side of the tent.

He silently watched her as she fumbled with the kettle and part of his guilt made way for a deep feeling of belonging and security.

Ron had a headache. He had just reread the same passage in 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7' for the sixth time and still could not make any sense out of it. This was not the only thing that was bothering him, though. One hour ago, the trio had returned from a thoroughly exhausting yet fruitless Horcrux search in Upper Flagley.

"We have no idea where he could've hidden it," Ron explained to Hermione when she sat down next to him, one brow arched with suspicion as though she had never seen him read a book before. "He could've put it inside a tree or something and we could've just walked by it without noticing."

"He wouldn't have hidden it inside some tree," Hermione pointed out. "Too mundane."

Ron rolled his eyes. "You get my point," he said. "I mean, you wouldn't think that our tent contained three bunk beds and a kitchen if you didn't know it any better, would you, and I suppose that the entrance to that cave with the Inferi lake looked just like your average cave wall. So why not a tree? He could've created a magical stash anywhere if he'd used an Undetectable Expansion Charm or something-"

"Undetectable Extension Charm," Hermione corrected him.

"Whatever," Ron said impatiently. "I'm just saying, I have no idea how Dumbledore could find and open that cave. That was definitely magic that goes far beyond our skills. So, I thought... well... I thought that we should make the best of our time and try to study as much as we can."

Hermione snorted. "I'd never thought I'd live to see the day when Ron Weasley studies on his own accord," she said, her voice shaking with badly suppressed giggles.

"Funny, aren't we?" Ron asked irritably. Hermione had just gotten dangerously close to putting her finger on his true source of frustration. He let out a sigh and then decided that he could just as well speak his mind. "I should've thought about all that before I made you go there," he said, his voice dripping with self-dissatisfaction.

"It's not solely your responsibility," Hermione said. "I don't know about Harry, but... Well, I must admit that I did search all our books for anything that could be of use for us..." she carried on, hunching her shoulders as if she had just confessed a terrible crime. "...but it's not exactly like I made you do it as well or that I shared my knowledge with you, is it?"

"It's not your responsibility to supervise our studying," Ron said tensely. "So don't you blame yourself."

"But I know that neither of you is the academic type and I should've taken that into account. But I'm glad that you're now taking initiative, really," she added quickly when Ron opened his mouth to protest. "It's just... Ron, I'm not sure to what extent the material we have can help us. All we have is little more than my schoolbooks. We don't have any of the really advanced stuff and it's not like we can just walk into Flourish and Blott's and buy more books."

"We can try and nick some somewhere."

"RON!"

"Well, do you have a better idea?"

"No, but we can't steal! That's immoral!"

"We'll find a way," Ron said decidedly. "We do have to find something for you to study, you see, while we ordinary mortals-" he indicated at himself, "try and learn the kid stuff." He lifted 'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7' in front of his face for a moment. "After all, you surely know this by heart already," he concluded with a smirk.

Hermione chuckled. "No, I don't," she said with feigned indignation and lightly punched him in the arm.

"Still, you know your way around this," Ron replied, his tone sober again, and raised the N.E.W.T. level book another time. "Seriously, I have no idea how you do that. I don't understand a thing in this."

"We can do it together," Hermione suggested.

"Huh?"

"We can go through the book together," Hermione elaborated. "I can help you with the parts you don't understand and we can practice the spells together. What d'you think?"

"Sounds brilliant," Ron said, smiling gratefully, but the next moment, his breath caught in his throat as Hermione scooted so close to him that her warm side touched his and she pulled half the book into her lap.

They both bent over the book and Ron tried hard to focus once again on the details of 'Chapter Two: Changing Aggregate States: Duro, Liquefacio and Gasiformo' while he desperately hoped that she did not feel him tremble.

"Accio salmon!"

Hermione's Summoning Charm cut through the air and made several salmons shoot out of the water and into the basket that Ron, who was standing next to Hermione on the riverbank, was holding in his hands.

"Fat loot," Ron remarked appreciatively.

Content with their catch, they both turned away from the river to walk back to the tent but they had barely made two steps when Hermione let out a shriek.

Ron reacted completely on reflex. Spinning around, he saw that Hermione, who had apparently slipped on the half-frozen ground, was falling backwards and he lunged at her and slung his free arm around her back to catch her. Some of the freshly caught fishes happily jumped back into the river as the momentum of his move made him stumble forwards and his body slammed into hers.

Their faces were mere inches apart and for a few painfully intense heartbeats, all he found himself able to was breathing heavily and staring deeply into her hazel eyes while she stared back, her warm breaths wafting around his face.

Finally, he managed to pull himself together and to release her. Without as much as saying another word, he turned around and trudged on, more sensing than seeing or hearing that Hermione was following his lead. He was shaken and an uncomfortable heat was creeping up on his neck, ears and cheeks.

Taxing his brain as he might, he had no idea what they were right now. He assumed that they were finally back to being friends, but all the same, he had the impression that somehow, something in their relationship had shifted. Sure, things had always been different ever since Dumbledore's death. Hermione had increasingly often sought not only his company but also physical closeness since their headmaster had died. More often than once, it had made him wonder if that made them something more than just friends. His relationship with Hermione had certainly become more and more different in nature than what he had with Harry. Of course, he had completely messed it all up, whatever it had been, when he had abandoned his friends, but now things seemed to have gone more or less back to normal, didn't they? But still, something between them was not the way it had been before, and not necessarily in a negative manner. He could not put his finger on it, but be it because he was now trying to prove himself worthy of her or because of the amount of time that they spent together without Harry, somehow their relationship now seemed different to him, more meaningful, more mature.

Harry. The poor bloke was still distressingly caught up in his notion of the Hallows, isolating himself, and it added to Ron's impression that he, Ron, was now closer to Hermione than never before. Sure, the two of them always made certain that Harry was included in their Horcrux discussions and study sessions, but his mind always seemed to be elsewhere and it made Ron feel that he, Ron, had gotten to share something with Hermione, a bond of sorts, that Harry did not have.

"Do you think he feels excluded, Harry?" Ron voiced his concerns as he and Hermione weaved their way between the trees that separated them from the tent. "I mean, the two of us are spending so much time together now. Don't you think that it makes him feel like a third wheel or something?"

"It might," Hermione said. "It's all because of the Hallows," she added, her resentment of the mysterious objects evident in her voice. "He's bound to feel detached from us as long as he ascribes so much more meaning to them than we do. But sooner or later, he's got to come to the conclusion that the whole Hallows business is just a bunch of rubbish and then things will go back to normal."

Ron mulled over her words. He dearly wanted to believe her, but it sounded way too good to be true.

"You know," said Hermione, rummaging around in her beaded bag. "If You-Know-Who was clever, he would've used a random pebble as a Horcrux. No-one could find one specific pebble in between thousands and thousands of other pebbles."

"Well, but he isn't clever, is he?" Ron replied. He was sitting next to Hermione on the couch, his back leant against the armrest and his feet planted onto the seating between his chest and Hermione's side. "He's an arrogant, pompous git. Serves him right if it makes it easier for us to scrag him."

Frowning slightly, he watched Hermione who was now pulling a pair of striped socks out of her bag.

"Another pair?" he asked incredulously, looking down at Hermione's feet that were already covered in what must have been at least five other pairs of socks which made them look ridiculously large.

"Well, it's freezing," Hermione shot back as she brought her foot that was closest to Ron up to the seating and pulled a sock over it.

Ron had no idea where he had gotten the guts to do it, but he lifted one of his large feet and covered Hermione's smaller one with it.

Hermione gave a start, perplexed, and then looked at him.

"What. Are you. Doing?" she asked in a low voice.

Though it was utterly nondescript, something in Hermione's gaze made Ron shrink.

"Uh... W-warming your feet," he stammered, mentally kicking himself for having done something so thoroughly stupid. He willed himself to take his foot away from Hermione, but to his horror, he found that he was paralyzed with nervousness. All he could do was holding his breath and praying that she would not lash out.

But Hermione just stared at him with that blank expression of hers which, to his great relief, slowly changed into a warm smile.

"This is kind of nice," she whispered, blushing the way that Ron found so adorable. "Thank you."

Ron let out a chuckle, glad to have regained his ability to breathe normally.

"Anytime," he said, gently rubbing her foot with his.

"Happy Birthday, dear Ro-hon, Happy Birthday to you..."

Ron woke up to his friends' awkward and slightly off-key singing. He groggily opened his eyes and found them standing next to his bunk, grinning down at him.

"Birthday? Really?" he asked, feeling dazed and rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He had kept track of the date during the first two weeks or so after Boxing Day, as though his return to the tent had heralded a new era of time, but he had given up on it eventually. What was the point? However, it would never have occurred to him that it was already March.

"You didn't know?" Harry asked.

"You did know?" Ron queried back.

Harry's grin turned somewhat sheepish. "Well, no," he admitted. "Not before this morning at any rate. I went to that Muggle supermarket in town to get some food and then I saw the date on one of the newspapers they had. Anyway, I then got you that."

And with that, Harry and Hermione stepped aside, unblocking Ron's view to the table. There stood a handsome chocolate cake. Two lit candles were sitting on it, one shaped like the number '1', the other like the number '8'.

"Wow, thank you, guys!" Ron said, dumbfounded. He jumped out of his bunk, hugged Harry who clapped him on the back, and then gave a hug to Hermione.

"You're welcome, Ron," she said happily. Hugging him back, she rose up on her tiptoes and gently brushed her lips against his cheek. He flinched with pleasant surprise and she let go of him.

"Now make a wish," she said.

He did not dare looking at her as he marched over to the table. His ears were burning and he felt a tingling sensation on his cheek where she had kissed him. But when he had reached the table, he smiled, knowing exactly what to wish for. He wished for the war to be over soon as the blew out the first candle and, turning to the second one, he wished for a long and happy future for him with Hermione, unharmed by the threat of Voldemort.

Carrying a basket full of freshly collected greens and mushrooms, Ron made his way back to the tent. As expected, Harry was still out on guard duty, absent-mindedly playing with his snitch. Ron greeted him with a nod as he tiptoed past him. When he had left the tent earlier this morning, Hermione had still been fast asleep and he did not want to make any noise and wake her up in case she was still sleeping.

He had barely stepped inside, however, when a sniffling sound met his ears.

He directed his gaze to the source of the noise and it fell onto Hermione who was sitting in her bunk, her face buried in her arms which were resting on her knees, and she was sobbing.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Ron asked, alarmed. He thrust the basket onto the table, marched over to her and sat on her bed.

Hermione lifted her head just enough to be able to look at him with red and puffy eyes.

"This," she choked up and handed him a piece of paper that had been lying on the open book in front of her.

Ron took it and looked. It was a drawing in crayons, the sort that a five-year-old would make. There was a house and next to it stood a stick figure family: a stick figure father, a stick figure mother and a little stick figure daughter with a large halo of brown hair...

She was mourning the loss of her family.

Holy mother of Merlin, what was he supposed to say?

"I was r-reading a-and this f-fell out of the b-book," Hermione explained in a very thick voice. "You know, I wanted to t-take at least a ph-photo of them with me b-but I-I couldn't. What if somebody f-found it and u-used it to track them down? But... but then I found this when I was c-cleaning up the house and I thought... I thought I could take this at least, b-but now..."

She dug her face into her arms again and broke into more, unrestrained sobs.

Feeling his protective instincts kick in, Ron scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her shaking form. A moment later, she was crying into his shoulder, clinging to him so firmly that he was sure that she would crush his ribs at any moment, but he could not care less. Conflicting emotions were swirling in his mind. His heart was breaking for her but - and he hated himself for this thought - he felt happy to finally have her in his arms again after way too many months, even though it was for all the wrong reasons.

"Shh, it's okay," he whispered to her, rubbing soothing circles on her back. As he did this, he felt the bumps of her vertebrae sharply sticking out even through the barrier of her thick sweater and he grimaced. He knew that she had lost a lot of weight since the beginning of the Horcrux hunt, but this was alarming.

"It's okay, it's okay," he continued.

Well, it was not okay. It was far from okay, but he had no idea what else to say. This whole situation was overwhelming him and he felt like a complete twit.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't have anyone but you two anymore," she wailed, looking up at him and grabbing the front of his sweater in her fists.

"That's not true," Ron said, trying to sound reassuring. "Your family's still out there. You'll have them back sooner than you think. And besides, you still have the Order people, the whole overlarge lot of Weasleys..." He chuckled lightly and then continued, "They're all rooting for us, you know. Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean that they're not around."

Hermione still gazed at him. Though she had calmed down a little, she still did not look fully convinced. Tears were still streaming out of her eyes. Wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight, she leant back into his shoulder.

It was only then that Ron fully realized what Hermione had sacrificed by changing her parents' memories and how lonely she must feel. Unlike him who was, theoretically, able to go see his family whenever he pleased and Harry who didn't really know it better, she had given up everything. So, in a way, he found that she was right. He and Harry were her surrogate family now. And he himself had made it even worse and robbed her of half that family when he had left in October...

He was such a blithering idiot.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into her hair, guilt stabbing at him like white-hot daggers.

Hermione looked up again, frowning. "What for?"

"For walking out on you," Ron said.

Hermione's demeanor changed abruptly. Her face hardened, the tears stopped, the light in her eyes disappeared. She let go of him and moved away so that no part of her was touching him anymore.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said icily and turned her back at him.

"Hermione..." Ron said lamely and reached out for her, but he froze in this tracks when she yelled at him.

"GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

A cold hollow feeling overcame Ron. In the past few weeks, things had been so normal between him and Hermione that he was sure that he had made it back in her good graces at last. But now it was evident that she had not forgiven him at all. Swallowing, he got to his feet and walked towards the entrance flap. It was probably wiser to let her have her way - for now at least.

"Okay, Hermione," he said quietly. "I'll be outside with Harry if you need me," he added, wanting to make sure that she knew that he would not truly leave, ever.

This evening, Ron was desperate like never before to finally get connected to Potterwatch. Not only did he want to encourage Hermione by letting her hear the voices of other people who were on their side - he was also getting anxious by the fact that he had not even once managed to dial into the program so far. When he had been at Shell Cottage, he had heard five episodes of it within nine weeks, and now he had not heard anything at all for almost three solid months. He hoped hope beyond hope that he was simply rubbish at guessing the correct passwords. If the program had stopped airing because something had happened to any of the involved... He did not want to think about it.

Perhaps it was because of the conversation he had had with Hermione in the morning, but he was now more aware than ever that some of the Potterwatch team were members of his family.

"Fred... George... Ginny..." he muttered through gritted teeth while he impatiently tapped his wand against the wireless.

It happened unconsciously, and he blamed his anxiety when he noticed, but eventually and with dismay, he realized that the names of the family members that he muttered had changed into the names of those who had already lost their lives in this war.

"Alastor Mad-Eye Moody... Sirius Black... Albus-"

"...and a very warm welcome to another hour of Potterwatch! We're glad you managed to tune in to our session. Yes, you got it right, today's password is 'Albus'..."

Ron barked out a laugh of triumph. "I've got it! I've got it! Password was 'Albus'!" [3] he shouted with glee and pushed his fists high into the air. Looking thunderstruck, Hermione abandoned her task of polishing Gryffindor's sword to settle down beside him, but Harry, who was outside taking watch, did not seem to have heard him. "Get in here, Harry!" [3] Ron added, just in case.

As Harry stumbled into the tent, Ron directed his attention back towards the wireless, feeling lightheaded with joy and elation at the sound of Lee Jordan's voice.

Little did he know that the following hours would be the most grueling in his life.