Somewhere out there was a scarf tied around a tree.
It symbolised a loss, and hope that perhaps the one who'd left would return and see it, would come looking for them.
It didn't matter to Harry what it symbolised, or if the one who left returned to see it.
Because he'd left.
Even after he'd taken off the locket, even after he'd had a few moments, he hadn't stopped.
They'd stayed to wait for him until morning, given him that time to check in with his family, to come back. But he hadn't.
Harry had spent half his life watching Ron fuck up and hurt the people who cared for him because of pettiness, selfishness, and disregard for others.
He wasn't going to do that anymore.
Hermione hadn't stopped crying all night. Times were dark enough, hard enough, without making things harder for each other.
He didn't know how Ron thought this would be some kind of light-hearted adventure. He'd experienced the truth of 'adventure', how scary and dangerous it could be several times in his life, yet somehow this one was meant to be different? Maybe he thought he'd get to go home each night, back to his family, despite Harry saying repeatedly that they were going out alone, and they'd be alone. Just each other.
Hermione had stuck by him for years, even when she went against his wishes she was trying to help him. Ron had failed him time and again, left him time and again, and he wasn't getting another opportunity.
He had Hermione. She was enough.
Perhaps it had been greedy of him, trying to have a friend like Ron anyway – like a normal boy. To play games in the common room instead of studying, to laze about instead of preparing. Hermione had done all those things in his stead, while he skirted by with the bare minimum, and Ron often even less than that.
She deserved better than his effort so far. She deserved far more than Ron's effort.
Perhaps Ron was right to say that Harry didn't understand – couldn't. He worried for his friends left out there, but the people he truly cared about were already with him. He didn't spend each day terrified to hear their names on the radio (he did, that was a lie, he listened just as closely to those names, fearing to hear Hagrid or McGonagall's, Ginny's, Neville's, Luna's and so many others.
But he had Hermione (and had had Ron) by his side and it hadn't changed his fear, not really. He'd still been afraid he'd lose them. That they'd fall while they were right next to him, or out of his reach. The only difference was that if Ginny died he might not know it right away, but with Hermione (and Ron once) he would.
Maybe it would be easier to have just the two of them. One less person to worry about, to fear losing while they stood right by his side.
Somewhere out there was a scarf in the woods, tied around a tree.
It symbolised a friendship that had been left behind forever.