(So, a happy ending to this story is being asked of me. I would love one; however, I cannot foresee the future.)

(Also! Romance between the two characters will take time.)

(So, in the meantime, I hope you enjoy the body of this story.)

;D

I want to go back to our tree. I'm not done being alone with you.

I can feel sweat start to form on my brow; all those eyes, boring into the two of us. They are saying everything that I can't bear to hear.

After struggling for our survival for months; not hearing word from any of our friends and believing the majority of them to be dead or captured; and then seeing every one of them, unharmed, as if nothing was at risk, nothing was to fear. It was shocking to say the least.

Ron crosses the threshold, as do I. I'm hoping, at this moment, that you aren't actually with me; that you're still off somewhere at Malfoy Manner, practicing in your psychotic ways. Why couldn't you just have been what I thought you to be? It'd be so much easier to let you go, to hate you; it would cause me no pain at all to see you taken away, or locked up…Everything would have been fine, if you would only be what I thought you to be.

In the living room, I see Ron's back. Before him, there is Professor Lupin; he's sitting closely next to Tonks, your neice, on Bill and Fleur's beaten leather sofa. They exchange glances, and then quickly lower their eyes to the floor.

I can't imagine what that must feel like, seeing her. Tonks has always spoken ill of you; I never much liked her.

Sitting next to Tonks is George Weasley; his twin brother, Fred, completing the curve of the half circle that has formed. On the other side of the Professor, sits Ginny. I notice she is holding Harry's hands and watching her own as they entwine with his.

I feel the walls of the small cottage begin to close in. everyone is so solemn; so quiet while they wait for some brave soul to speak up. I shove my hands deep into my pockets, forgetting for the moment, why everyone is so upset. Then I hear a faint click against the hardwood and almost instantly, your body heat warms my back. You're closer than before and this time, I can feel your breath against my cheek.

I'm hoping that my small intake of breath isn't noticeable. But the distance between us, or the lack there of for that matter, is making my nerves all the more unmanageable. I shift my eyes over my shoulder; I can only just see your own in my peripheral. They are scanning over the people in the room. You see every person you've been made to hate over the years; you see the faces of your enemies circled around the small living room, staring back at you with distaste and distrust and you wonder why you are even wasting your time.

But I don't think it's a waste of time, Bella; you're just not used to making an effort for the people that matter. Being cruel could come easy to anyone; it is caring that is hard. Making friends and being genuine is a talent very few possess.

I look to my right, toward the small table and see Percy. His arms are folded over his chest, his nose slightly stuck upward. Fleur is nowhere to be seen but Bill is in the kitchen with Mrs. Weasley, who is rapidly scrubbing away at the dishes; refusing to acknowledge your presence.

However, even through all that is going on and all that has happened and even though we, as in the Trio, had been gone for months and without contact; everyone sits together, continuing on from where we had left off.

Dinner is set and the smell of the food is making my mouth water; I'm starting to care less and less about the situation at hand. I haven't eaten anything decent in God knows how long. The aroma is making my head fuzzy; I need to sit down.

As the room gently begins to shift and wobble, Mr. Weasley steps forward from the hallway; where he had been watching from behind the dim shadow. His movements are casual as he makes his way toward the two of us; Ron has already taken the spare chair next to Harry, pretending that the old magazine in his hands is a most amazing read.

Even though Mr. Weasley approaches with kindness; I can tell it is forced. He always has to be the good guy, the one to lighten the mood.

"Good evening, Hermione." He says with a light smile.

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley." I say quietly, trying to keep my eyes only on him. They're shameless; they care not about how this whole situation might feel from your point of view. It is then that I doubt they ever will.

Mr. Weasley clears his throat. He cannot stand awkward moments; he does not know which face is appropriate to wear.

"Might I have a word?" he asks quickly. No, you may not have a word, Mr. Weasley. I already know what it is that you have to say; I've probably heard it over a dozen times today.

"Of course." I tell him. He turns on his heel and leads me back into the shadows of the hall. At the very end, on the left, is a spare bedroom; already there are suitcases strewn about, ready to take advantage of the once, vacant room.

His head is down as he paces the length of the hardwood; his hands deep in his pockets. He's thinking of what to say, wondering how he should lay it out for me. He doesn't want to be rude, nor too harsh but he wants to get his point across, clean and clear.

He looks at me once, his mouth slightly agape. He takes a breath, still unsure of himself.

"Mr. Weasley." I say, pulling him out of his thoughts. "I already know what you are trying to tell me. I have nothing to say to it; I won't change my mind." I say stubbornly. There, I've laid it out for one more person. I'm expecting him to haggle with me, try to reach some sort of compromise; but he doesn't. Something I wasn't expecting at all.

"I know, Hermione. I'm only trying to think of a way to go about the situation." He explains, walking over to me. He holds onto my shoulders as he speaks; like Bill did. He locks my eyes in with his; this is okay, I have no problems facing Arthur Weasley.

"You have to understand, that the one thing we are all fighting against sits calmly in the other room. We do not know how to handle that; I wonder how you did, after all she has done…" he says, slipping in the last bit. I get it now, how did I not see it sooner?

He's playing the guilt card; one I am familiar with, having had Harry for a friend for so long.

My eyes squint against his comment. I do not know how to reply, what am I supposed to say to that? I don't even know why it is that I've taken a liking to you.

You made it too easy for me, Bella.

"I've already tried suggesting that we hear her out. That's all I want, Mr. Weasley." I say finally, growing more and more tired at having to repeat myself.

He looks at me, as if my eyes will tell him what to do next. He lets his hands drop from my shoulders, breathing out a frustrated sigh. One nod latter and he is leading me back down the hall and into the cramped living room.

I'm surprised I didn't hear all the commotion from inside the spare bedroom and when we enter the living room, the scene before me has left me at a loss for words.

I can hear crying; it isn't hysterical, in fact, it is quite gentle. It sounds sincere and perhaps a bit frightened.

In the center of the floor, sits both you and Tonks. Her hands are pressed into her face as she hides her tears. You have a soft arm wrapped around her own. I can hear you quietly shush her, willing her to gain control of herself. I look around, everyone is watching as I am. There aren't any words to explain our feelings.

Your hair falls in a thick sheet over your face, falling lightly onto your niece's shoulders.

You lean in, close to her ear. You whisper something to her; something I doubt will ever be repeated. Her cries ease up and she wipes at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand.

This is what's hooked them, Bella. At the time, I hadn't any idea of what had gone on between you and your niece; I wasn't going to pry in things I wasn't a part of. But everyone else had. They all knew why Nymphadora was being cradled by you; why she was being hushed and petted. They didn't think it possible for a Death Eater like you, a monster, to show affection, or even love.

They refused to believe you were anything but a murderer, a liar and a severe threat; until that moment, that is.

There is more silence to follow. The quiet is filling the room, making it difficult to breath. I can almost see the corners of the walls bending in to the pressure.

Then, Mrs. Weasley steps in, ready to save the moment from any more awkwardness, with the promise of a hot meal.

"Supper is ready, everyone." She says, in a high stressed voice. Everyone moves at once and it seems they have even forgotten about you, or more, your persona of the witch, Bellatrix Lestrange.

oOo

There is more silence to follow but as the lot of us eat our fill and relax in the company of old friends and perhaps even new, none of us seems to want to break it.

This silence is welcoming, comfortable, familiar and so dearly missed.

I can lose myself, only focusing in the gentle clinking of plates and silverware; the occasional slurping of a drink.

I do not know how long we plan to be here. I know it won't be long before we are forced to leave again; if we can manage to sneak passed Mrs. Weasley, for a second time. I don't want to think about that now though; the thought makes my throat tight with more emotion that I knew I had.

With every few bites of food, I look over to you. You're seated on the chair Ron had been sitting in. Strangely, he had given it up to you, taking the next available seat on the raised hearth of the fireplace.

It is still tense in the small cottage but much less so; people are trying to relax, trying to see things the way I had seen them.

Slowly, everyone starts to clear out; finding a spare bedroom and resigning for the night. It makes me happy to know that they feel comfortable enough with you around to sleep. Mrs. Weasley is back in the kitchen, scrubbing away at the new pile of dishes; however, the tension in her work has dissipated some. She usually just uses magic to clear away a mess but I feel she needs to do the work in a Muggle fashion, to keep her head clear.

I've stayed seated at the small circular table, my hands placed in a tight ball in my lap. My fingers were fascinating to me then; they held my concentration nicely. The only people left in the room, aside from Mrs. Weasley and myself, was Harry, Ginny, Ron and you. Ron was eagerly awaiting my leave from the living room. I could tell he was tired and wanted nothing more than to snuggle up to me and fall asleep in the comfort of a family filled home. But I wasn't quite ready for sleep, not by any means. There were about a million and one questions, whirling uncomfortably in my head; of course, I knew I couldn't answer any of them but thinking of the happenings of the day would help ease them up.

I hear soft footsteps padding toward me; I look up from my hands and see a pair of red stained eyes. it is Harry, his face tells no lies; he is so exhausted.

"Good night, Hermione." He says, placing a friendly hand upon my shoulder. I flash him a weak smile and mutter my good night.

I get the same from Mrs. Weasley, she too is ready to retire; however, I could tell she wanted to wait until all had left. She'd feel safer knowing she was the last awake but her tired face revealed she could wait no longer. I watch as she walks up to you, wearily of course. She clears her throat and you are ripped from your thoughts; I wish I knew what it was that you were thinking about.

"There is a spare bedroom up the stairs and to the left. First door." She says, turning away and making her way down the hall. this pleased me, she could have said nothing, leaving you to wonder where it was that you were to go.

Finally, Ron could wait no longer. He walks up, his hands casually placed in his pockets.

"Ready?" he whispers tiredly. No, not quite yet.

"Yeah…" I say, taking one last glance at you. My face begins to burn when I notice you had been watching me first.

I wonder if I should bid you a good night; my palms begin to sweat at the thought.

I stand from my seat; Ron instantly grabs my hand, unnoticing of its shaking form. He's leading me up the stairs, away from you.

I turn at the last second and find that your eyes have not left me. I try to say something, but what? I do not know; so I settle for an awkward wave, thankful that we have disappeared from your sight before you can respond.

I lie awake in bed; the dark is comforting. It keeps me hidden from even myself. Ron was asleep before his head hit the pillow; I can feel his heavy arm wrapped tightly around my middle, keeping me locked in place. I try to focus on his breathing but soon find it is even more distracting than my own pestering thoughts.

What feels like hours later, I hear faint footsteps making their way up the staircase. I know it is you, for you were the last awake; also, the clicking of your heels is unmistakable to me. Your room is directly across from mine and when you finally make it to the platform of the second floor; you hover between your door and mine. I look toward you; I can see that shadows of your boots from under the crack of the barrier that keeps me locked inside the small room.

I can feel my heartbeat quicken, my chest rising and falling with each pump of blood. I'm so curious about you, Bella. What were you doing just standing there? I contemplate moving from my still state but think better of it; for, even if I had, I wouldn't know what to say once I had met you.

You make the decision for me, however, and before even the smallest muscle can twitch, you've retired to your own room.

Minutes later, I roll over, too tired to think any longer. I try to find happiness in Ron's sleeping form but he is so sharp, so broad, I cannot get comfortable. I place an extra pillow between us, snuggling up to the soft sack of feathers. Much better, so much better….