A/N: Hi guys….yes….yes I know I haven't been here, please don't….ouch…..not there ow…oooo… I am so sorry, I am a terrible writer! Please hit me with all your hatred and disappointment because I deserve it. But I'm here now, so it's all fine. Anyway, I have had the most terrible case of writers block, it has been horrendous with this story, ideas just wouldn't come and my mind refused to cooperate! IN the end I decided to skip the Ministry chapter all together because I wasn't inspired by it at all, and to be fair there isn't much Romione action in the anyways. Moving on, I have a new twitter account: Miss_Bee_xx, feel free to follow me, right now I am called Hidden Horcrux. I tweet often, I love it, so please do follow me to check on updates and to just keep you posted really on what bugs me in my day to day life. So, here it is, the long awaited chapter, hope it is up to your expectations xx
Hermione's P.O.V:
So, here we are. In a tent. In the middle of nowhere. I had completely freaked out when I felt Yaxley's hand gripping my ankle, he just would not let go! Therefore, coming here; not letting him follow us, take us, torture us, maybe even kill us, seemed like a legitimate solution. Well, at the time, anyway.
We've been in this patch of forest a week and we have planned to move out first thing tomorrow, as we can't Apparate due to Ron's condition. Oh, poor Ron! Half the time he looks like he doesn't quite know what to do with himself. I think we're all running out of conversation topics and it's only been about seven days!
Unfortunately, we are still as stumped about this locket as we were a month ago. We have tried every spell I could think of, setting it on fire, Ron even went Muggle on us and dropped a rock on it in his attempt to help, but to no avail.
Somehow, these boys, sorry, men that I am living with aren't the same as we were a month ago either, we've all grown up so much. Yet somehow I feel suddenly separate from them, my best friends, for the first time since that bloody troll. Like their difference in anatomy has somehow distanced me from them, and I don't like it one bit. Being on our own here makes me feel so lonely, especially when they're off doing boy things. For example, the way that they are fine to just walk around in just their underpants, while I feel I always have to have a towel wrapped around me, or a jumper on, never revealing anything. Just feeling so self-conscious, all the time, it's just not right.
I can also feel some tension rising, but it's probably just to do with living in such a small space. It's rather cramped, and it somehow seems much smaller than it did when all the Weasleys, Harry and I were in here for the Quidditch World Cup two or three years ago. I often wake up to the smell of 'boy' in a morning, and it's getting old.
"I'm going on patrol, I'll see you later."
It was Harry, breaking my thought bubble as he sauntered past my chair to the flap of the tent, relieving Ron of his duty.
"You know you don't have to go on look out, you shouldn't expose that arm to too much chill," I 'mummed' as he so greatly puts it.
"I'm fine, 'Mione! Honestly," he sighed, coming to sit on the floor, his back leaning against the seat of my chair. "Hogwarts: A History again? Really Hermione?"
"Shut up, it's interesting and I love it like you love Quidditch, and I don't complain about you doing that…much. Anyway, I think it's about time I change that bandage."
Ron's P.O.V:
It had been a bloody crap couple of days. First, I get splinched to within an inch of my life on my sodding arm, and then we're forced to live in this stupid bloody tent. I don't tell them this, but I miss my family, especially my Mum, how sad is that, I must be bloody depressed. The voice in my head is sniggering, but if it had been away from its family, with no contact what-so-ever as I have, then this situation would have a totally different feeling. Great, now I'm talking in my head about the voice in my head in my head. Yes, it does make sense.
Sitting out on lookout was when I really get to think, the only time when I am completely alone. Well, the others are just on the other side of some flimsy waterproof fabric, but I still feel alone, and it's nice, sometimes. But it still doesn't make it fun, or any bloody warmer.
"Hey, I'll take over now, shall I?" asked Harry, steaming mug in his hands. I wasn't one to refuse the warmth of Hermiones Blue Flames, or her anything for that matter. Harry sat down where I had been as I entered what I call the "Second Heaven" stage of the night, where your body goes from being freezing to comfortably hot in ten seconds. And there she was, nestles with her book, Hermione, her brown curls tinged with a blue light from the flame jar leant on her armrest. I went and sat down next to her after she commented on my unnecessary lookout job, head leant back happily as we continued our lazy conversation until she moved to get the Dittany for my arm. I always dreaded this part, why did it have to hurt so much? She tried her best to be gentle, but it was hard not to flinch from the pain. Hermione came and knelt down opposite me as I sat up slowly.
"Here we are," she sighed, unsuccessfully trying to pull up my shirt sleeve. I chuckled and just pulled the whole thing over my head, leaving me half naked. She smirked up at me, and then busied herself examining my wounds. As she pulled at a loosened bandage, I winced unconsciously and she looked up apologetically. "I am sorry Ron, but this has to be done. Try taking off the locket, here, I'll take it." Hermione reached her hands around my neck in search of the chain, leading me into her chocolate brown eyes; glistening slightly in the blue flames. She sighed again gently as she found the chain and pulled it over my head, moving to put it over her own. "Why don't we be free, hey? Just for one night," I asked, carefully taking the horcrux from her grasp and placing it on the floor in a pile of metal by her curled up feet. She nodded, and then quickly ripped off the offending bandage. I swore, looking at her through slanted eyes questioningly. She just gave me the 'had-to-be-done' shrug and, more gently this time, pulled off another, apologising constantly.
Once I was free of the dirty bandages, she picked up a cloth and began dabbing Dittany on my open cuts around my arm and upper chest.
"Do you think Harry knows what he's doing?" I asked suddenly out of the blue. She stopped, looking up at me through startled eyes.
"I…I..," she spluttered. "I'm not…entirely sure that…that he does…no. But, in faith we must trust." She finished more confidently, then returned to her motions, but I could see in her eyes and overall expression that she was in another world.
Hermione's P.O.V:
I was taken aback by his query. I had to think it over myself for a minute to get my story straight. I wanted to reassure Ron, but at the same time not get his into a feeling of false security.
"I'm not entirely sure he does, no," I eventually said. Seeing Ron's sudden worried expression, I finished with; "but, in faith we must trust." He seemed to calm down a bit then, trusting my judgement, which I found nice, at least he trusts me. But, more importantly, what did he think? He must have an opinion. After about five minutes of doubting my mind whilst tending his wounds, he chuckled. "Penny for 'em." He looked me straight in the eyes with those big blue pools and I almost keeled over; it was as though he could see right through me, right into my soul, past the calm demeanour, like looking through water on a calm clear day. I looked away, into that ginger hair I loved so dearly; shocked by the deepness of just one look, ten back into his eyes. "I would say, if I knew what I was thinking," I shrugged eventually, gaining another chuckle from him.
And that was it. We sat in near silence as I attended to his arm and chest, laying down the newly cleaned bandages neatly until I had finished, then moving on to talking nonchalantly about anything and everything until we fell asleep.
General P.O.V:
Harry walked in four hours later to see his two best friends led down, Hermiones head on Ron's bandaged chest, a lazy smile plastered on both their faces as Ron snored gently, their legs entangled. A happy sight, Harry thought to himself as he went about making a pot of tea.
I know it mayn't be as long as some of my other chapters from long ago, but it's a start. Don't forget to follow me: Emma_Bee_xx and tweet me if you read this or any of my other stories, okay? You promise me? Good children. xx