"Alohomora," Hermione pointed her wand at the back door of the Riddle's house, which was now so concealed by ivy that they had had a terrible time trying to spot it. Well, the gardener is dead, thought Harry grimly. The door creaked open, and several unidentifiable insects scattered outside. Ron squirmed, and Hermione rolled her eyes in response. She pushed the door open further, to expose a damp, dark kitchen. Some of the cabinets were hanging by a single latch, others had fallen off altogether, a stove was distinguishable from under a mossy coat, and the floors were pealing.

Hermione took a hesitant step into the house, Ron followed her with his hand wrapped firmly around his wand, and Harry brought up the rear. The door slammed behind them, and the whole house shuttered in reaction.

"What now?" Hermione whispered, running a finger along the notched and cracked countertops.

"S'pose it would be upstairs, then, right?" Harry replied. He stepped over a tattered piece of wood that had once been part of a cupboard.

"Well, let's get on with it, then," said Ron, who was sticking close behind Hermione while she picked through a pile of glass and porcelain. Harry made his way to the hallway, but just as he reached the entrance Hermione gasped. He turned his head in time to see her back right into Ron, where he attempted to catch her, but tripped over a stray piece of wood, sending them both onto the ground.

"What is it?" Harry asked. Ron stood up slowly and helped a rather pale Hermione to her feet.

"The-the glass. It's bewit-"

But she didn't have to finish her sentence, though, because just then, in perfect synchrony, each shred of glass rose from the table, froze for a moment, and then flew in every direction.

"DUCK!" Harry yelled. He dropped to the ground, but it wasn't much use, the glass simply changed its route, now soaring straight at him once again. "Okay, then, don't duck," he murmured to himself.

He tried a freezing charm, which worked for few seconds, but then the shards shattered under the cold, only forming more chunks of glass. Ron seemed to be having the same problem as Harry.

"What do we do with them?" he screamed to Harry, jumping as a large flake flew by him. Harry looked around. The walls were embedded with glass; he turned to see Hermione casting levitation spells like crazy, sending each fleck individually away from her.

Harry had another idea, and he aimed his wand for a few intertwined goblets headed in his direction. Casting a vanishing spell, which wasn't exceedingly accurate, for it hit a ceramic mug, Harry nodded to Ron in encouragement.

Ron, however, had conjured a bubble-like cloak around himself; as the debris continually hit him, it rebounded and floored. After what seemed like hundreds of vanishing spells, Hermione directed a final, loud "Wingardium Leviosa," at the remains of the bewitched rubbish. Ron's bubble popped noisily, which was followed by a short silence before Harry suggested they move on. He walked slowly into the hall with his wand perched over his ear in a fashion only Luna Lovegood could match.

It happened just as Ron, Harry, and Hermione reached the huge, stone staircase. Hermione leaned against the dusty banister, still panting.

"Looks like this could be a bit harder than we thought," she gasped.

"I'd wager," was all Ron managed in response. His eyes were focused on a dresser across the hall, which was now shaking violently.

Harry, however, didn't say anything. A dark, scabbed hand half concealed by a long, ghostly cloak had appeared at the top of the handrail. Ice trickled down the railing, right to where Hermione was still propped up against it.

"Oh," she stood up straight, and glanced wearily at the frozen staircase. "Harry… it- it's a…Oh no."

Harry backed up until he hit the wall, the cold and damp wall. A feeling of utter terror swept over him. Dumbledore's death had set a cloud of depression over him, and happy thoughts tended to avoid him these days. The dementor crawled down another step, standing so tall that its hooded head was mere feet away from the marble ceiling. Harry was hardly aware of Ron's shout as a giant black widow emerged from the dresser to Harry's left. He was barely aware of the bat-like creature that was zooming around Hermione's head. He was scarcely even aware of pulling the wand from behind his ear. All he saw was the sleek, shattered outline of the dementor as darkness washed over him with a vengeance.

Focusing on a moment Harry had tried for so long to forget about, as thinking of it usually made him feel worse, Harry shouted in a determined voice, "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

Light erupted from the end of Harry's wand, a light so brilliant that the darkness Harry had felt simply seconds ago was completely shied away. Yet, the silver shape that had formed before the three of them was not a stag, as was Harry's usual patronus. Hermione waved her wand effortlessly, and the small beast that had been giving her quite some trouble before fell to the ground benevolently. Ron was staring at Harry, perplexed, as the boggart behind him crept back into its dresser. Harry, himself, was utterly startled. Though the figure Harry had just conjured was rather blurry, and somewhat transparent, it was fairly obvious who had replaced the stag Harry had relied on since his third year at Hogwarts. A silver replica of Ginny Weasley was doing a stunning job at fighting of the dementor, which now was retreating back up the stairs. It drew the curtains, a fine crisp of ice consumed them, and dropped gracefully out the window. The patronus dissolved, its job fulfilled. Harry cleared his throat and made to climb the stairs. He could feel Ron and Hermione's eyes practically boring into his back. Harry had been convinced that he was doing a very good job at making them think he was over Ginny. In truth, however, he had been deprived of sleep night after night, at first because of Dumbledore, and later because of Ginny.

"Where do you get off dumping my sister while you're obviously still in love with her, eh?" Ron grabbed Harry's shoulder, and Harry turned to face him.

"I'm not…I, uh, broke off with her because I love her. You don't seem to get it, do you? I'd think," Harry continued, suddenly furious, "that you'd have gotten it by now, Ron. Voldemort goes after the ones I care about…the ones I love. I ended it with Ginny for her own sake, because I care for her."

"Well, that's stupid."

Harry looked over Ron's shoulder, for the first time, at Hermione, who seemed to have just realized she had said anything aloud. She continued, however, hesitantly, "Stupid. Stupid to love someone, and to know you love them, yet want to push them away. And… and to deny to everyone – even yourself – how you really feel. So stupid. Ridiculous, really."

An awkward silence met her words. Harry was in shock; how had she known? It seemed quite impossible that Hermione could know exactly how he fel- Oh. Hermione seemed to become aware that Ron and Harry were staring at her incredulously.

"Er, sorry –," she glanced at Ron wearily, "we'd better keep going. Who knows when we'll be out of here…" And she glided past both of them to the hall at the top of the stairs.

Ron and Harry exchanged a look and followed slowly.