Mountains around a remote village near Wengen, Switzerland:

The air in the mountains was crisp and sharp, so much so that to breathe too deeply was painful. The rosy tint of the approaching dawn spread throughout the rolling hills, painting the emerald hills and trees with a soft sheen of gold. In the midst of the breaking dawn, in a clearing surrounded by vast spiking conifers, a small fox wandered through the underbrush, foraging quietly. She brushed her nose into a small crevice of dirt scrunched between a rock and the base of a tree, sniffing twice. The well-known scent of rodent wafted up to her. With one swift move, the fox pressed both paws down upon the tiny mouse tunnel, tossing a small squeaking rodent out into the light. The fox snatched it out of midair, breaking its neck with a quick crunch. Nosing in the dirt, she followed the scent trail further into the woods, until she found another small den. Pouncing quickly, she killed two more mice. Snapping her jaws, she settled down contentedly on the grass to finish her breakfast.

Suddenly the fox's ears shot up, and she growled softly at a spot some distance away, where some new scent had appeared. She sniffed the air, staring at the space where it originated, but could see nothing there but the trees, swaying gently in the wind. She took two steps backward, whining uneasily, when suddenly someone melted into view so suddenly it was as though they had appeared out of thin air. Squeaking in alarm, the fox seized the dead mice in her jaws and bounded away into the forest, away from the human that had so suddenly appeared, to enjoy her meal in safer quarters.

Meanwhile, the human in question looked around the clearing, his green eyes taking in the surrounding area, a long wooden stick clutched tightly in his right hand as he surveyed the scene. After detecting no immediate threat, the young man lowered his wand, calling over his shoulder to no one in particular.

"The coast's clear, you can take those off now," he said, running a hand through his untidy jet-black hair. There was a soft shimmer in the air behind him, and another person melted into existence, the colour of the forest around him shifting gradually into that of human texture. Two seconds later, a third person followed suit, this one a teenage girl, liquefying the air around her as she took shape.

The second man, the tallest of the three, shivered slightly in the cold mountain air, rubbing his arms fervently. "Damn it, I'm cold. You're sure we're close, then, Hermione? We'd better set up camp then, I doubt we want to go down there until nightfall at least."

"I know that, Ronald," the girl replied, "and yes, I'm sure we're close. However, we'd better have our story straight before we just barge in there. We've been successful until now because we've been careful," she placed heavy emphasis on the word, "and we don't want to mess it up now."

"If you're referring to that incident outside Geneva, that wasn't my fault, he came out of nowhere –"

" –and we don't want to be hassled again because someone forgets to have a cover story –"

" –it's not like he would tell anyone, anyway, he was a tramp, wasn't he? If anything you should've seen him, he came from the street you were supposed to be watching–"

"and forgot to use his Disillusionment Charm–"

" – he was drunk, alright, it's not like he'd remember –"

The first man sighed with the air of one who had heard this all before, shaking his head with a mixture of exasperation and bemusement. He waved his stick once in the air, and the two fell silent as though invisible hands had covered their mouths.

"Will you two keep it down? We won't need to worry about Disillusionment Charms if someone comes up here and hears you two," he whispered. Ron rolled his eyes once and waved his hands around his head in an exasperated motion; for a minute, he looked like some sort of demented bird, and Harry laughed loudly in spite of himself. The girl gave him a pointed stare and, chuckling, he waved his wand and undid the Silencing Charm.

"Very funny, Potter," Ron said as soon as he was able to speak. Harry shrugged, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets to warm them up. "Desperate times call for desperate measures."

"Prat."

"Git!"

"All right," Hermione said in a bored voice, rolling her eyes. "Harry, we're coming up on the village soon, it shouldn't be more than an hour away at most. You're sure this is the right one?"

"Positive," Harry replied, hoisting the rucksack he carried off his shoulder and crouching down to examine the contents. "That wizard we found in Interlaken said his contact was in a village near Wengen. He'll know where the Cup is for sure, we've been tracing the connections for the better part of two months."

Hermione nodded tiredly, rubbing her eyes with one hand and absently twirling her wand between the fingers of the other. Beside her, Ron sat down on a jutting rock on the outskirt of the clearing, crossing his legs and folding his arms across his chest. "The guy could've been lying."

"We've discussed this before," Harry interrupted, "it's the best lead we've got. We know that before Voldemort could make the Cup into a Horcrux, it fell into the hands of some antique dealer specialising in the four founders. We know that he sold it to that wizard we found in Interlaken. We know that after Voldemort came by and stole it again, the wizard's dealership partner followed him and saw him go into the mountains near Wengen. If we find that guy's contact, we'll be able to find where Voldemort hid the Cup, or at least the general area he hid it in."

He stopped to take a breath, staring at Ron, who scuffed his feet against the grass. "I was just talking, no need to write an essay on it, mate," he said, grinning. "That's Hermione's job."

"You little –" she glared at him, but as Ron grinned back at her, her annoyed stare slowly dissipated and her mouth curved into a gentle smile. Harry watched them, smirking. The two of them were growing ever closer, and it was a heartwarming thing to watch. Gone were the days back in their sixth year – it seemed so long ago, he mused – where they were at each other's throats every hour of every day. Now, subtle hints of growing affection were taking place – an innocent touch here, a smile there – and it lit the two of them up. They both loved each other, that much had been clear since second year – but because of the circumstances they couldn't move forward. And both of them were afraid to be the one to initiate the next step.

His friends were such blockheads sometimes. Couldn't they see how in love with each other they were? It astounded him that their furtive, far-away love had lasted for so long without blossoming into something more. At Hogwarts, he had spent countless days badgering them both, threatening to reveal their feelings if they didn't "make a move already, damn it, we're growing old here" as he had eloquently stated. Every time Ron's face would burn crimson and he would mutter indistinctly about "not the right time" or "don't know how she feels" or "Krum." Hermione would do the exact same thing.

Now, as he watched them beam at each other, he felt that there was hope. Unfortunately, their bloody mission was the most important thing, and Ron and Hermione would have to wait yet again. "Hate to break this up, but we've got to move," he said. Both Hermione and Ron's smiles faded as they nodded, resignation creeping into their eyes as they got to their feet. It was as though they had aged countless years in mere seconds.

Not for the first time, Harry felt his heart wrench with sorrow and anger at the fact that they had to be here at all. His best friends – although "friends" was a very pale way to describe what they were now. They were brothers and sister, partners until the end, family in every sense. They would give their lives for him in a second, and he would return the favour without a moment's hesitation. They had sacrificed so much for him, giving up their families, their school, their own lives, to help him with this final quest, his burden. He both hated and loved the fact that they were doing this. Hated in the fashion that if anything was to happen to them, anything at all, it would be entirely his, Harry's, fault. Hated it because they had left their homes and their families to be with him. But he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he would have given up long ago if it had not been for their support – for Hermione, whom he loved like a sister, with her brilliance, her knowledge, her endless capacity for kindness and bracing words of comfort that steeled him even on the worst of nights. And for Ron, the best friend he could have ever asked for, closer than a brother, with his sharp wit, his bland humour and his steadfast loyalty.

If it weren't for them I'd be done for, Harry thought, looking into their faces, seeing the shadowy bags underneath their eyes, and the tired lines at their corners. Ron noticed his stare and gave him a wan smile. "Don't worry about it, mate. Let's just meet this guy, find the Horcrux and blow the hell out of it, yeah?" Harry nodded with renewed determination. "You got it."

He turned to Hermione. "Let's make sure we're still on course." Hermione nodded, her curls bouncing, as she laid her wand flat across her open palm. "Point me," she whispered, and the wand spun around in her hand, the tip pointing into the dark trees some distance to their left.

"Over there, then," Harry said, and the two next him nodded. Without another word they headed into the trees again, vanishing between the winding branches of pine needles and into the breaking dawn.

x x x x

She crouched low, hiding behind the cover of trees, her chest heaving as she struggled to regain her breath. The fingers of her right hand were clenched so tightly around her wand that her joints had begun to ache. Slowly, she stuck her head out an inch to see where her assailant lay.

A split second later a hex slammed into the tree next to her and sent chips of bark and wood spiralling into the air.

She dove sideways, holding her wand tightly, as more curses exploded around her. Aiming through the trees at the shadowy figure at the edge of the tree line, she shouted, "Stupefy!"

A jet of crimson light burst from her wand and flew towards the figure; with a quick flourish of his wand, he yelled "Protego!" and her Stunning Spell bounced harmlessly away, exploding against a fence and sending a shower of red sparks into the air.

She wasn't done yet, though. Scrambling to find her footing, she aimed her wand directly at the cloaked man's heart, while at the same moment he trained his on her face. For a split second, neither moved. Then both acted at the exact same moment.

"Impedimenta!" she yelled.

"Pulso!" the man countered.

The man managed to dodge left and avoid her jinx, but she was not so lucky; as the man's curse hit her, she felt a crushing force in her lungs as something invisible smashed against her chest, sending her flying backwards into a tree. She crumpled to the ground, wheezing, her eyes sparking with fury.

That little...

She scrambled to her feet. The figure was steadily advancing on her, exiting the field and approaching the cluster of trees she was hiding in. His wand was held aloft, sending more hexes her way. She leaped left, then right, as a small hole was blasted into a tree next to her. As the man broke past the tree line, she pointed at the nearest branch over his head and cried, "Diffindo!"

The branch cracked loudly and broke away from the tree, falling with a sound thump on her assailant's head. He fell with a curse, clutching his temple. Feeling a surge of triumph, she leaped out from behind her tree and barrelled towards him, wand directed at his twitching figure. "I've got you, don't move!" she said loudly, drawing near to him. The man stopped moving.

...and then, in a movement too quick to follow, he snatched his wand from where it had fallen and swung it upwards. Before she could react, she felt her body stiffen, her arms trapped uselessly at her sides as her wand slipped from between her fingers and fell with a soft thud on the dirt at her feet.

The man got to his feet, smiling grimly as she tried to thrash and wriggle out of the Body-Bind Curse he had set on her, but it was no use. He had her.

"Had enough yet?" the man asked her, and Ginny struggled against her bonds with renewed vigour. "Remus, that wasn't fair!"

Remus Lupin smiled blandly and raised one eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You cheated," Ginny muttered sullenly. "You said no non-verbal spells. I would have had you if it wasn't for that." Lupin chuckled, the lines in his face losing their intensity somewhat. "You should never believe anything the enemy tells you, Ginny. You should know that by now."

Ginny nodded, feeling ashamed. She should have known better. Almost every time she had a duelling session with Lupin, she was distracted by something in the back of her mind. Every time she needed to concentrate it flared up again, rising to the forefront of her memory and haunting her throughout the days, afternoons and evenings. Before she went to bed, when she woke up – it was there, always there.

Him. Harry.

His absence was like a constant ache within her chest, sometimes ebbing and strengthening, but refusing to abandon her completely. She missed him so fully – his laughter, the bright shine in his eyes when he looked at her, the simple way his mouth curved when he smiled – it was torture, to think of him. But she couldn't stop herself. The words he had spoken to her the day he left, over a year ago, reverberated within her mind: "I've got to do this, Gin. I can't ask anyone else to die for me, or to blaze my trail. This is the way it has to be. But I swear I'll do whatever I can to end it, and I'll come back. I'll miss you."

He had stuck to his word after Dumbledore's funeral. He had ended things with her, to protect her, to save her from Voldemort. But in protecting her life he had destroyed her heart.

Is he okay? Has he accomplished whatever he said he had to do? And Hermione – my brother, Ron... are they okay? Is he keeping them safe? Are they keeping him safe?

She hated herself for making herself worry like this, for constantly going over everything bad that could have happened to him on his journey. He could be injured, cold, sick. He could have been captured by Death Eaters – but surely she would have known it? They would have wanted to publicise it, make it known that the famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, had been captured at the hands of their Dark fuckhead Lord.

She took a deep breath and brought herself sharply back to the present.

"Are you going to let me down now that you've taught me Defence Against the Great Remus Lupin 101?" she asked boldly. Lupin chuckled again and waved his wand, and the force holding her was gone so suddenly that she nearly fell on her face. "Very funny," she said to him, dusting herself off and bending over to pick up her wand, tucking a strand of fiery red hair behind her ear.

"What?" Lupin asked. "You think I'm all smiling and happy with this big bump on my head? That's going to leave a bruise you know. Tonks is going to kill me; she made me swear not to get too into it."

Ginny smiled as she pictured Tonks, hair bright and molten lava red in her anger, glaring at Lupin until he quaked under her look. Her smile turned into a laugh, and Lupin returned it warmly, looking happy but older and greyer than ever before.

"We should get back," he said, his smile fading. Ginny nodded and tucked her wand into her robe pocket and followed him out of the woods and into the meadow, back towards the Burrow.

x x x x

Mountains around a remote village near Wengen, Switzerland:

"That's it, right there," Harry said, pointing down the hillside towards the small town nestled in the morning mist. The sun was bright and gold around them, but the light was deceiving and the cold mountain air sliced into their robes, making them shiver. Much further down the hillside, swathed in bright sunlight and the barest tendrils of fog, lay the village they were seeking. It was quite small, but it had a very quaint look about it, the houses and streets tucked into the surrounding hills and pine needle trees. Looking down at the town, Harry wondered why Voldemort would have wanted to hide a Horcrux in a place like this. It was too scenic, too pretty, and not morbid and dark like every other location he had chosen.

Oh well, what do I care anyways? If it's down there it's down there, and I'm not going to complain. Let's just find the sodding thing so I can get back to Gin –

Stop.

His mouth tightened into a thin line. He didn't like to think of Ginny for too long, not if he could help it, anyways. Which he couldn't. But it hurt too much; every time he remembered the silken fire of her hair, the passionate strength in her eyes, her touch, her taste, he came undone. At such times, he could feel his resolve slip away, until he wanted nothing more than to abandon his quest and simply run back, back to the comfort and familiarity of her body, her face, her lips –

"Harry? Are you listening?"

Hermione's voice broke into his thoughts and the scene in his mind's eye evaporated like smoke. "Yeah, sorry Mione, I drifted off there for a second. What were you saying?"

She nodded towards the town. "We should make camp and get some rest before we go down there to find the contact. It's too early anyways, we'll be too conspicuous. Let's lie low until nightfall, okay?"

Harry nodded tiredly, growing ever aware of the heaviness of his limbs and the shuffle in his step. They had been going for over twenty four hours, and he was just about to burn out. What he wouldn't give to crawl into a nice, warm bed, sleep on a soft mattress...

...and maybe someone else in that bed...

"Okay, Hermione, you're right," Harry said, shaking his head to clear his mind. "Let's get some rest for now. Thanks." She nodded, giving him a look of affectionate understanding before she began to walk in circles around their current position, casting protective wards around them. "You sure you don't want help?" he called out to her. She glanced over her shoulder. "No, you go rest, Harry. You need it." She turned back to her spell casting. Harry shrugged, conceding defeat. They were close enough to the town that they could see it, but they were nestled in a grove of trees on the mountainside that would effectively hide them from view.

As Ron bounded away to the opposite side of the grove to cast more wards, Harry rummaged through his rucksack and withdrew a long, folded tent. He laid it on the ground, pointed his wand at it, and muttered, "Erecto." The tent immediately flared into shape, bursting upwards. Harry drew back the flap and ventured inside, pulling a small piece of fabric the size of his hand out of the rucksack. Pointing his wand at it, he said "Engorgio" and the fabric expanded until it took the shape of a wide, dirty quilt. Harry laid it on the floor of the tent, to protect himself from the cold chill of the earthy ground, before unrolling a dark green sleeping bag and burrowing into it.

As he wrapped himself within the warmth of the bag, he felt his eyelids grow heavy at once. He yawned once, hugely, before settling back again and feeling the full force of his exhaustion hit him at once. He closed his eyes, filled his mind with visions of a red-haired goddess, and let himself drift into the sweet oblivion of sleep.