A/N: I finished this story today. Have a lot of editing to do before I post it all, but the end is in sight. The end is WRITTEN.

Trigger warnings: n/a


"What do you mean he's gone?"

"I mean, Mrs. Malfoy," said Ron with as much control as he could manage, "I woke up and he is not here."

Hermione pushed him off her and scrambled out of bed, blindly flailing until she had freed herself of the bedding and stumbled to the door of her bedroom. Most of her body still felt asleep and at least half of her brain thought this might still be a dream, but the rest had been flooded by such cold adrenaline that reality felt too sharp to bear.

Bursting into the other bedroom, she saw the bed Harry and Ron shared, the duvet tossed about in a way that told Hermione Ron had already demolished everything in search for their friend—who will be in so much trouble if he's still alive!

She hurried to the sitting room, the kitchen, the bathroom—the flat was so small it quickly became alarmingly obvious that Harry was not in it.

Ron watched her search with wild eyes; Narcissa came to stand next to him.

"Why would Mr. Potter leave?"

"I don't know!"

"He wouldn't."

Harry, what have you done? He was dangerously impulsive at the best of times, but he had never run off without at least telling them first!

Unless he didn't go voluntarily

"Ron, what are the wards like on this flat? Can they really keep unwanted people out?"

"Sometimes they even keep people we want bloody out! No-one could've got in to take him!"

"And even if they had," reasoned Narcissa, "why would they leave the rest of us behind?"

Hermione's imagination spun out of her control, conjuring a thousand possibilities, each worse than each other—visions of Death Eaters creeping through their home for God knows what reason—

"If they threatened us," she began, voice shaking as she looked to Ron with wild eyes because surely he understood what she meant—"if they told him to come quietly or—or they would kill us, or something—do you think he'd go? If he thought it would save us?"

Ron looked like he might be sick; Narcissa muttered something which sounded like "idiot" and Hermione's wanted to screech, Stop it! Harry's selflessness is one of his best qualities when he's not being a bloody moronic prat! But her mouth couldn't seem to connect to her brain.

"What do we do?" she whispered desperately, because this had never been part of any of the plans and—

"Contact the Order, of course."

Ron didn't even bristle at Narcissa's suggestion. His eyes stayed fixed on Hermione's as he spoke, "We decided early on not to cast a Patronus here unless of emergency. We don't know how much surveillance power the Ministry has when it comes to tracking magic, you see. I told you all this already. Anyway, if I contact them now… I dunno what will happen. We might have a dozen Death Eaters at our doorstep within a minute."

"I don't think we have much choice, Ron."

Hermione watched in awe as Narcissa put her hand on Ron's shoulder. He stood taller than her, yet somehow it gave him the reinforcement he needed; Hermione saw his posture straighten and the set of his jaw harden.

"Gives us our wands, Mr. Weasley. Cast the charm, and Hermione and I will be ready, whatever the outcome."

Having a wand in her hand again felt nearly foreign; she couldn't stop fidgeting with it and the handle was already slick with her sweat. She scrubbed her palm on her trouser leg. It had been Narcissa's idea to dress properly, collect her bag and anything else which may be needed. Hermione hoped it would prove to be unnecessary.

She watched Ron anxiously as his face scrunched in focus. His breath slowed, then quickened, then slowed again as he obviously forced himself to calm. "Expecto patronum!" he declared, but nothing but a wispy mist came forth.

"Damn," he muttered to himself, and Hermione bit her tongue. She wanted Harry to come through the door and tell them they were all overreacting. She wanted this to be over before it began; she had a horrible feeling that whatever it was, this would be the end.

"Expecto patronum!"

An almost-something swirled in the fog before dissipating.

"Nearly there," encouraged Narcissa softly.

Ron closed his eyes for a long time, maybe a full minute. Hermione thought her lip would bleed from biting it before he successfully cast the thing, then nearly bit it straight through as his wand arm shot forward and he cried, "Expecto patronum!"

His terrier assembled itself and elegantly trotted to wait before him, ready for instruction. When Hermione had first seen him cast the charm in their fifth year, the canine had been like a ravenous puppy. Now, it sat at his feet with its snout held high, all the lines of nobility in its posture.

"Go to Dad, and Kingsley, and Lupin, alright? Tell them—um… Tell them that Harry's—that he's missing. I woke up and he was gone and we're not sure where he went. No sign of intrusion. Need advice on how to proceed."

The Jack Russel terrier seemed to bow its head to its master before darting off through the window and into the early morning darkness, leaving a fading trail of magical smoke in its wake.

"We'll probably hear back from them soon," Ron told the waiting witches. "And it doesn't seem like we triggered any kind of trace, so…"

Now what?!

Hermione spun on her heel and continued her pacing, half disappointed she hadn't already worn a hole in the carpet. The sun had begun to rise, and Harry was nowhere to be seen or heard or paraded around on a spike by a gleeful Lord Voldemort. Mr. Weasley's swift reply with disturbing confirmation that they had not heard from Harry nor could they successfully contact him had only stirred her fear further, and the Order's firm command not to do "anything foolish" while they tried to track him down had not improved her state, to say the least.

She had tried to eat, only for anxious nausea to advise her otherwise. Her hands trembled too much to drink.

So, she paced. Ron dashed about the flat, dismantling couch cushions and rummaging through cupboards to see if Harry had left any clue to his departure, or perhaps just happened to fall out of bed in the middle of the night and roll underneath it.

When he found nothing, he growled in frustration, tugged on his own hair and started again.

Doesn't matter, Hermione thought frantically, her mind now moving too fast for her to adequately express anything with words. Something's happening and we're going to have to run into it very, very soon and then—!

Narcissa yelped and Hermione jolted to see the other witch reflexively raising her wand as something bright burst through the wall. Ron stumbled into the room, wand also raised, and let out a strangled sound as Harry's stag materialised before the three of them, antlers raised high.

He's alive.

She wanted to cry when she heard his voice.

She wanted to sob when she heard what it said.

"Come to Hogwarts."