Chapter Twenty Five

A/N: Thank you to Susan M. M and iluvfabian for reviewing.

Hermione returned to the tent mid morning, frozen almost to the bone from the harsh winds outside, although it had been preferable to returning to the chilling atmosphere that was almost certain to await her inside.

As she had expected, neither Ron nor Harry were speaking to each other, and though both of them looked up when she pulled the flap at the entrance aside and entered the tent, neither of them made a comment; they just carried on packing away their things in silence. She sighed slightly, before she began to help them, trying to keep an equal distance between herself and the two boys, so that she could not possibly be construed as taking a side. However, she did not remain still and moved at a pace far faster than theirs; they would need to leave soon, she knew that, and she would not sacrifice precious time for the sake of not causing an argument.

The silence was broken after a couple of minutes by the sound of raindrops pattering against the canvas of the tent. Hermione let out a sigh of frustration. It was taking enough effort as it was to cover their tracks, in case the Death Eaters should locate them and decide to follow, and that had been when the ground was dry. When the soil turned to mud, the difficulty of hiding all trace of their passing would increase tenfold.

Still, though it would be simple to travel when the ground had dried a little, it would be a hundred times more dangerous to wait, and so they proceeded, eventually deciding that they must trust that their speed alone would be enough to allow them to evade the Death Eaters. Ron walked up ahead of his two companions, his hands in his pockets and his head down against the wind. She and Harry followed behind, walking side by side in silence. Every so often they would glance up at each other, but immediately looked back down again, neither wanting to meet the other's eye.

Ron had increased his pace until he was a full fifteen feet in front of his friends and the two hurried to keep up. Hermione had spent a great deal of time pacing the forest, putting up wards and charms everywhere they stopped to camp, and therefore had become extremely sure-footed, used to finding her way around strange terrain in the dead of night. Unfortunately, Harry had not had the same practice.

She did not notice that he had fallen until she heard him cry out with pain, his shoulder slamming down hard on a pile of rocks by the side of the dirt track they walked on. She spun immediately, sprinted backwards to reach her friend where he lay on the ground, curling around himself to try and ease his pain, seeming unaware that he was worsening the wound.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, falling to his side and pulling her wand from her jacket. She glanced up briefly to ask Ron to pass her something from her bag, only to see his back as he continued to walk. She seethed at the reaction of the redheaded man, seeing it as nothing but a childish rebellion, before she returned her attention to the boy on the ground, who had bitten his lip so harshly that it was drawing blood.

The blood on his lip was not the most prominent wound, it seemed, as the blossoming patch of scarlet on his shoulder told. Harry's shirt had ripped slightly, revealing more of the wound, but the tear was not needed for Hermione to know what had happened; the disjointed way his arm fell at his side told her enough.

It took only two or three minutes for the spells to be cast and for Harry's arm to be healed, but those minutes seemed to be an agonising experience for him, an effect which rubbed off on Hermione herself. As tears began to streak his face with the pain of the healing spell taking effect, the young woman found herself holding her friend tightly in her arms, mindful of his injuries as she held him against her. She suspected that not all of his pain came from his broken arm; some would have come from the idea that he had slowed them when they were barely two steps ahead of the Death Eaters, while far more would have come from the knowledge that even now, Ron was moving away.

"Come on. We have to keep going." she beckoned Harry, hauling the boy to his feet and wrapping his arm securely around her shoulders, allowing him to support his weight on her. Hermione relished the warmth that emanated from his body and was hard pressed not to lean into him as he was doing to him, the only thing stopping her being the fact that Harry would collapse if she did not support him properly.

"How far ahead is he?" Harry asked as they moved slowly along; he was concentrating so fiercely on keeping moving that he did not have the ability to keep an eye on Ron.

"Quite far." Hermione replied, trying to keep her voice light to hide her underestimate. From what she could see, Ron was around half a mile ahead of his two companions, but she did not feel that Harry needed to be aware of this just now. "He looks like he's slowing down a bit, though. I think he's just too proud to admit that he doesn't want to be on his own."

Harry nodded a little, although he did not appear convinced by Hermione's explanations.

"I don't know what's gotten into him." the young woman commented, trying to redirect the boy's attention. "I mean, Ron's always been a bit childish, but this just came out of the blue."

"No, it didn't." Harry sighed, raising his head to meet her eyes. She could see his teeth grit with determination against the pain of his movements, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his eyes. Immediately, Hermione's mind was cast back to the conversation the previous evening and the pain in Ron's eyes as he had confessed how much it hurt him to see her with Harry. "He's in love with you, Hermione. And given that you can't love two people... well, you are going to have to choose."

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