It was cold.
No, it was beyond cold and straight into frostbite. And it only got colder as I remembered the events of last night. The cemetery. The house. The snake.
My head.
I winced at the searing pain, both in my scar, and beneath my skull. Attempting to ignore it, though, I opened my eyes and glanced around the tent. Where was Hermione? Panicked, I hurled myself from my bed and went outside. I was immediately distracted by the beauty of the vast forest. I spotted Hermione a moment later, sitting next to a large tree, reading a book, and I walked over to her. She looked up as I approached.
"Are you feeling better?" she asked.
I very nearly scoffed. Better? After the hell I'd gone through last night. There was no way to answer that question, so I didn't. I changed the subject. "You've outdone yourself this time, Hermione," I said.
Just like Hermione, she understood exactly what I meant. "Forest of Dean," she explained, glancing around. I moved to sit across from her, and she smiled sadly. "Came here once with Mum and Dad, years ago. It's just how I remember it. The trees, the river . . . everything. Like nothing's changed." She looked at me for a moment, then the pain in her eyes increased, and she turned away. "Not true, of course. Everything's changed. If I brought my parents back here now, they probably wouldn't recognize it. Not the trees, not the river . . . not even me."
So she had done it; she'd obliviated them. I'd suspected as much, but never dared ask to confirm it. And I felt even more guilty for dragging her into this. She'd sacrificed everything for me. Her home, her education, her parents, her friendship with Ron, and very nearly gave up her life, all for me. And I just expected her to do it, like the selfish idiot I was.
"Maybe we should just stay here, Harry," she said suddenly. "Grow old."
Oh, how I wished we could. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to stay in this forest with Hermione, forever, creating a life of our own. Away from the pain. Away from the lies. And I wished she wanted that the same way I did. But as always, I was afraid to hope. I was afraid to even suggest that she shared my desires. I wasn't sure that I would be able to bear it if she didn't.
And then, of course, the moment ended. Hermione brought the subject back to our mission, to the mysteries and horrors that plagued us daily.
"You wanted to know who the boy in the photograph was," she said. "I know. Gellert Grindelwald." She handed me the book she was reading, and I opened it to the page she had marked. I recognized him immediately.
"He's the thief I saw in Gregorovitch's wand shop," I told her. And that reminded me of something I was missing. "Speaking of which, where is my wand?" I looked up at her, and my heart sank to see a sad, remorseful expression on her face. No. It couldn't be. She was just thinking about Ron, or something else. "Where's my wand, Hermione?"
With a sigh, she shifted and pulled back a corner of the blanket she was sitting on, thus revealing the splintered pieces of my wand.
I nearly cried.
"As we were leaving Godric's Hollow," she explained, "I cast a curse, and it rebounded. I'm sorry. I tried to mend it, but wands are different."
I couldn't even look at her. "It's done," I said, standing up. "Leave me yours. Go inside and get warm. I'll take the locket as well."
Even in my peripheral vision, I could see she was sorry, and hurt by my coldness. I wanted to apologize, I really did. I was still having a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that I didn't have a wand anymore. Slowly, Hermione gathered her things, and headed for the tent. Just before she disappeared inside it, I heard one, quiet, heart-wrenching sob.
A/N: I always thought Harry was more sorry than he seemed to be, but he really sucks at expressing himself, so he just didn't say it. Meh. Another chapter, coming soon!