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A/N: I warn you, there is some swearing and adult themes in this chapter... enjoy!

Perhaps it was not the wisest thing to do. It most certainly was not the healthiest thing to do, but there it was anyway. Ron and Hermione had snuck a bottle of firewhisky into the Burrow, courtesy of Fred and George, and were getting stuck into it in Ron's bedroom. It was 9pm and to say the least, they were both elegantly tipsy.

Hand shaking, Ron poured out two more shots in the glasses and handed one to Hermione. Amused at the way he was swaying even though they were both sitting on the floor, Hermione repressed a giggle in case anyone else in the house could hear them.

"Okay, okay…. Ahem." Ron announced importantly, waving his glass in the air. "Who's gossss it? Who's gossss it?" He slurred.

"Is mine." Hermione slurred back. "Alright, tooooo….. to Hogwarts, hallowed hall of knowledge and learning. May you never ever ever fade." She nodded to emphasise the point.

"Trust you to use big words when yer pissed." Ron replied, as they chinked glasses together and drank the contents. He poured out two more shots.

"Okay, my turn. To Humple Scorned Snoreklacks… Krumple Corned Loresnacks…"

Hermione giggled. "Be serious Ron."

"I am serious." He defended. "I'm always serious… I'm toooo serious. Okey okey finnnneeee. Don't look at me like that. Alright, to Harry! You should be here right now mate. And if the plan goes to plan… you will be… tomorrow night that is. Merlin, Harry's polyjuice potion has GOT to taste better than bloody essence of Goyle."

"To Harry." Hermione repeated. They chinked glasses and drank.

"To the Order of the Phoenix. A better group of wizards and witches I have never seen."

Ron nodded in agreement. "To the Phoenix!" They drank.

Ron's drunken expression took on a more sombre appearance as he stared out his bedroom window into the night sky. "To…." He faltered. "To Dumbledore." Pause, an invisible shroud blanketed the happy atmosphere and turned it into something fragile and almost desperate. "Best thing ever to enter Hogwarts. I hope…. I hope he's happy wherever he is." Ron stared into the amber liquid of his drink and gave a heavy sigh.

Hermione visibly shuddered, caught up in the moment. There was no chinking of glasses, no smiles, just the tossing back of drinks with finality. Hermione and Ron's good mood had rapidly evaporated.

"To obliterating my parent's memories. Now they don't know I exist." Hermione faltered and tears quickly came to her eyes. Sniffling, she continued. "Good luck…. In Australia. I miss you both soooo much." At the look of dawning horror on Ron's face, Hermione's sniffle turned into one loud sob.

Rapidly, Ron was at her side, hugging her tight and stroking her head. He spoke only two words and it damn near broke her heart.

"Why Hermione?"

Her eyes closed in pain as her tear soaked face angled up to face his. Slowly, fearfully, she opened her eyes, half expecting his face to be a mask of contempt. When she saw only concern, her throat seized up and a wave of sorrow passed through her body. Voice cracking, she replied,

"I'm scared Ron. God, I'm so scared. He Who Must Not Be Named is out there and the only wizard he was ever afraid of is now dead. The last defense… the last defense of the wizarding world now rests in the hands of our best friend. Harry is the only thing standing between us and a fate of racist persecution and veritable slavery at the hands of a psychotic dictator. I was scared for them. Can you imagine what would happen if the deatheaters got a hold of my parents? You can bet they…. God, those monsters would kill them just because they are my parents, the parents of a muggleborn witch. Oh, and let's not forget, I am FRIENDS with the BOY WHO LIVED! Everyone we love is in danger…. How could I not do it?" Hot tears ran down her face.

"Am I a bad person for doing it Ron?"

Ron teared up as he resolutely shook his head. He wiped tears from her left cheek with the pad of his thumb and looked her straight in the eye.

"No. I think you are one of the bravest, most unselfish people I know."

Through the new set of tears that sprang to her eyes, Hermione smiled, and a warm feeling settled into the pit of her stomach.

"Really?"

"Yeah really." Ron smiled back.

As if a curtain had been pulled back, Hermione suddenly realise how close they were. Her heart was beating rapidly. Her cheeks were blushed red that did not wholly come from the fact that she had been crying. She could see the little flecks of dark blue in Ron's eyes. And even though he predominantly smelled of firewhisky, he still smelt soooo good, that musky pure male smell that only guys can achieve.

Ron himself had, at this point, also realised how close they were because his breaths began to come out in short rapid sighs and his large hand stopped wiping her cheek to cup it. Slowly, achingly slowly, their mouths inched closer and closer together. Ron gripped Hermione's waist tighter. So close, rapid heart beat, blue, so blue, closer…..

There was a loud bang on the downstairs door and the spell was broken. Ron's head turned towards the bedroom door in puzzlement.

"Who could it be at this hour? Is it an emergency?"

He disentangled himself from Hermione and walked to the door, peering out. He saw both his parent rapidly hurrying down the stairs in their nightgowns and closed his door again. Turning worried eyes to Hermione, he said,

"We had better go down."

Hermione nodded, all thought on what had just conspired and what had almost conspired temporarily wiped from her mind. He performed a sobering up spell on both of them then the two teens made their way downstairs, meeting a sleepy Ginny on the way.

Standing on the stairs leading up to the second floor, the three watched Mr. Weasley open the door. It admitted a ragged looking Lupin supporting a hysterical Lavender Brown and surprise of all surprises, a dirty, tired and bloodied Malfoy trailing behind. Ron and Ginny raced downstairs to see the newcomers, where Hermione, cautious, stayed back.

As soon as Lavander saw Ron, she gave one loud sob and threw herself into his arms, maintaining a death grip.

"Oh Ron! They….. they….. they kiiiiiiilled her! They wanted me but they kiiiiiiiilled heeeeer! I wanna die! God I wanna die!" Wailing loudly, she broke down in fresh racking sobs. Looking supremely distressed and with one distrustful glance at Malfoy, Ron looked towards Lupin to explain.

Sagging visibly, Lupin ran a hand through his mussed shaggy mane. "I discovered a plot while undercover with the werewolves that Fenrir Greyback was after Lavender here because she is muggleborn. Unfortunately, I was too late. The attack was to happen in Diagon Alley. I believe…. Greyback thought it would make people more afraid if they knew they weren't safe even in public places. But, unfortunately…." Lupin halted and a haunted look passed over his eyes.

Lavender finished for him. "He killed Parvati…. He killed her. We…. we just wanted to go shopping and he killed her….. Parvati! Oh god Parvati! She buried her head in Ron's chest and sobbed harder. Ginny gasped and covered her mouth in horror. Hermione grabbed the stair handrail and gripped it tightly. Mr. Weasley put an arm around Mrs. Weasley who was visibly shaking. Bill brought one shaky hand to his scarred face and he and Fleur shared worried glances.

Malfoy, alone, showed no visible distress. Melding into the shadows, he crossed his arms and leant up against on of the walls. At that point, Lupin seemed to remember that Malfoy was there and waved an arm at him.

"Found Malfoy in the same alley that I found Lavender and…. And Parvati in. He was hiding behind a stack of boxes. Said he had escaped the deatheaters. That he no longer wanted to be apart of You Know Who's plans and that he wanted to come with me. He was quite forceful, so I took a chance and brought him here."

Malfoy turned his head from everyone's glare and said nothing. Lupin went on.

"I'm sorry Molly. He didn't want to go to the Ministry and I didn't know where else to bring him. But he has given me his wand and I don't think he means any harm."

Ron snorted and his famous rage boiled to the surface.

"What a load of bull! This is Draco FUCKING Malfoy! If he's not a deatheater then I'm a Hippogriff! I mean, on You Know Who's orders, he conspired to kill Dumbledore. Well, congratulations mate, HE'S DEAD THANKS TO YOU! Oh, almost killed Katie Bell and me in the process. Has everyone forgotten that a mere few months ago, he let in a legion of DEATHEATERS into the school who injured a bunch of people and got Bill's face maimed by Greyback. And now he says that he's changed? BULLSHIT! Evil is in his genes! He's the son of Lucius SODDING Malfoy! The man who's made your life a misery at the Ministry, Dad, and gave a Ginny a POSSESSED diary that almost got her and Harry killed. He's called Hermione mudblood more times than I can count. Him an' his family have brought nothing but trouble to us. I'll bet his precious daddy put him up to this."

Finally Malfoy, who had been quiet throughout this entire tirade, stepped forward and stared Ron in the eye with a steel glare. His eyes flashed with a cold fire.

"There'll be no chance of that. My father is dead. So is my mum. They were killed." There was a pregnant pause and the entire room was rendered speechless. Malfoy looked up and his and Hermione's eyes met. Her eyes were as cold as his, as fathomless as his, her exterior as cold as his. Something strange and unfathomable passed between the two. Eventually Malfoy looked away.

"I want to talk to McGonagall. I'll tell her what you want to know and only her."

The rapid thumps of leather shoes on dewy grass and the loud panting of her breath were the only sounds prevalent on that clear, quiet night. The wind whipped her tear-soaked cheeks making them cold where the salty trails had ventured down her skin. Her lungs burned and her thoughts, though slightly worrying, were blissfully incoherent. As long as her feet continued to move forward and the wind continued to pass her by, her thoughts continued to be one jumbled beautiful mess.

How long would it take for the jumble to blend into one continuous note of sound?

The most clear and only coherent thought that she could process was that when she stopped moving, all those things that she desperately crowded into the back of her mind would move to the forefront of her head. Every time this happened, it always ended up the same way. Eventually she was going to have to stop.

And this was the single most terrifying thought she had ever encountered.

No option but to keep going.

However, the simple laws of physics and biology had never let her win this battle of wills, and they weren't going to give up now. Eventually the acid ache in her legs and the simple physicality of the giant lake looming before her forced all action to cease. The cold sweat of fear beaded her forehead as she hunched over to catch her breath.

Everywhere and everywhere itched with a scratch that was not physical.

How do you scratch an imaginary itch?

Her mind was too fast. Her body could not keep up.

How can one outrun an imaginary foe that you can neither see nor hear nor touch but you feel in every nerve and fibre of your being?

The serene atmosphere of this large body of water belied the tempest of the teenager's mind. Those thoughts, those base incomprehensible distasteful thoughts were crowding her temples and making their opinions known. The rational part of her mind rebelled vehemently.

Oh god oh god, I'm crazy. What the HELL am I doing? Please please leave me alone. Oh god Ron I wish you were here. Oh god ron ron ron ron ron. I love you so much why don't you love me. I'm not dreaming. I know you love me. He can't be right he knows nothing. But I am a COMPLETE nut! What will people think, I'm running around like a crazy person. What is wrong with me? God, why can't I just go back into the castle and go to bed this is MAD! No, I can't go back, I don't wanna go back. Please don't make me go back. Please please please! Oh god I'm so scared! What am I doing? I wish you were here right now Ron. Please come! I need you! I want you! I want you more than her can't you see that? Why why why did I let him get to me. He is SCUM! I hate him I hate him I hate him! Why can't he leave me alone. Why did he have to say that? He's lying…. Oh god, no he isn't I'm lying. I'm lying. I'm lying. My life is a fake. I'm an ugly pathetic bookworm freak. I'm self centred. MY PARENTS DON'T KNOW WHO I AM! I'm the worst daughter in the world. All I want is for mum to hug me and tell me she's okay. I hope they're okay. Oh god, Ron. I need you.

Crouching down underneath a tree, she scrunched her eyes up and blocked her ears in a vain attempt to block out the noise. A desperate sob escaped her mouth and before she could help it, another came and another. Her thoughts whirled faster, like a demented merry-go-round. She sobbed until her throat ached and her tear ducts had run out.

And suddenly, like an outer body experience, her mind quieted and she felt light, tingly. And best of all, numb. That blessed feeling of tired magnificent numbness. She lived for this moment. And sitting under that tree, staring at the velvet water of the lake and the diamond-studded sky, a small measure of peace overcame her. She could have stayed there for hours, days. Just staring, not focusing, on the sight before her.

A pair of leather shoes walked up and stopped next to her languid, reposing form.

How long had he been there and what did he see?

They were questions she did not care the least about.

At this point, she didn't care about anything. Staring up at his face, she was no less entranced by the lines and curves of his profile than she was by the lake and the sky. The visitor ran a hand through his ruffled blonde hair and shifted his weight slightly from one foot to the other.

Once, just once, he looked over and met her stare. Oh those eyes. The way their eyes met felt more personal to her than a lover's most intimate embrace. Her numbness acted as a preventative against any feelings of self consciousness and introversion that she might have otherwise felt if meeting his stare under any other circumstance.

She didn't know how to otherwise explain it but the eyes that stared into hers were her own reflection. It was beautiful. Not the same but deeply and metaphysically interchangeable. Dare she imagine, even intertwining.

She blinked slowly. Her voice took on a melodic and dreamy aspect. "You feel it don't you? You feel as I do." An eyebrow raise was all she got that signified that her companion had heard her.

"The barriers, the shells, the situations, they are different. But the outcome, the feeling is the same. I hide behind my books and you your disdain for the world. But you feel it and so do I. You felt it that night when you came to the Burrow and looked into my eyes and you feel it right now. It tears holes in your soul, it tears holes in mine too." She smiled bitterly and looked to the castle sitting on the top of the hill.

"The loneliness. I hate it and yet, it is the only familiar thing I have left. And that is why we both gather it to our bosom and keep it in a death grip even as it tries to smother us." She fell silent as the last intonations of her voice absorbed into the air.

Heaving a sigh and one last look to the horizon, he stuck both hands in his pockets and turned around to face the castle. Their moment was over.

"Come on Granger. Let's go." Was the only thing he said.

He waited for her to blink, twice, slowly get up onto two shaky legs and fall in next to him. They both faced the castle entrance and began walking.