Chapter 21 – Breaking

"So that wasn't awkward or anything," Ginny said when she stepped back into her and Harry's flat with Hermione in tow.

Hermione had to steady herself, hating the spinning of the floo network.

"Yeah, well..." Hermione didn't know what to say, really. She was still embarrassed about being discovered with Ron like that, even more so for scaring Ginny and Harry. "This is all new to me. It shouldn't be, but it is."

A loud meow announced Crookshanks pouncing into the living room to greet them. Hermione immediately picked him into her arms while Ginny scratched him behind his ear.

"How are you? Do you feel better than yesterday?"

Hermione considered it. For a few seconds she only concentrated on Crookshanks' content purring against her chest. "I feel...different," she said honestly, not fully yet knowing what different meant.

"Tea?" Ginny asked, "and talk?"

"Sure." Crookshanks leapt from Hermione's arms and settled himself on the sofa.

While Ginny prepared tea, Hermione went into the guest room that had been hers for now and brought back out her usual stack of books and notes and letters she was studying in her spare time. There was also the booklet she nicked from Hogwarts. She had hidden it under her bed covers, but now she felt like she needed to look at it again. Think things over. Ask questions.

Ginny entered the living room with two steaming mugs in her hands. She set them down onto the coffee table.

"What are you studying today?" she asked Hermione, peering over her books.

"Charms. I found a large wad of my notes regarding protective spells. They seem really interesting. I don't want to brag, but I think I was inventing some of my own stuff," Hermione said quietly. The parchment under her hand was covered in thinly written script and circular diagrams with a human figure drawn in the centre.

"Trust me, if there's anyone who can brag, it's you. That would make sense. When you, Ron and Harry were on the run, your protective spells saved you countless times. You know," Ginny began, a little wistfully, "Harry still to this day just raves about the magic you could do during your mission, and being under constant pressure and all that too. I've always been a little jealous."

"Oh please, I've seen you do magic, you're brilliant," Hermione said, but she was blushing a little. She then sighed deeply. "I wish any of that were still in me. Sometimes I worry that when we were kidnapped, something went wrong. What if I'm not blocked, what if it's just been taken away from me?"

"That's not possible," Ginny said resolutely, but she paled in the face a little at the thought of it. She took a big gulp of her tea, eyes scanning the rest of the notes. "What's this?" she asked, pointing toward another stack, stapled together. "Ah, of course," Ginny grinned when she read the title.

"What is it?"

"Your notes and ideas on bills to pass for house-elf rights."

"Oh?" Hermione took the papers from Ginny. "I haven't seen that." She reached for it with interest and started scanning through the pages.

"I can't believe that during all your Healer training you still had time to be drawing bill rights in the evenings and invent new protective spells. You always had the strangest hobbies. May I?" Ginny asked, picking up a couple of letters from the stack. Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Ah, Viktor Krum. How many of these had he sent?"

"There's like thirty of them, who was he again?"

"Triwizard champion that competed against Harry in fourth year, an international Quidditch star and your first boyfriend that you managed to pull when you were fifteen."

"Right, right," Hermione said, blushing again. "That would explain some of the content then."

"Well don't let Ron see any of those," Ginny snorted and then immediately, realising what she had said, looked at Hermione in alarm. Hermione eyed her pointedly. Sighing, she took the Hogwarts booklet and handed it to Ginny, her finger in between the pages of the photograph and engagement announcement. Ginny read it slowly, frowning and then lifting her eyes furtively to look back at her friend. She got up and disappeared into her bedroom for a while. When she was back, she placed the box with the ring on the table between them.

"I didn't know how to tell you, none of us did," Ginny said. She looked ashamed, wringing her hands in her lap.

Hermione nodded soberly and glanced back at the picture. "I understand. I've known for a while, and I haven't found it in me to tell Ron either. It's weird. How do you come up to someone and just tell them, 'oh by the way, we're engaged, so now we should just be together as default'?"

"And you don't want that?" Ginny asked, her voice sad.

Hermione ran a hand through her hair, avoiding Ginny's eyes for a second. It was difficult to talk to her about her brother and her own romantic feelings for him.

"I don't know," she said after a pause. "But I know that if we're to work something out between us, unless we get our memories back, it can't be on the basis that we were once engaged. It has to happen differently, it has to be real. I can't go back to being engaged to someone I've actually just met, someone I can't even remember kissing for the first time..."

"But last night..."

"Yes, that was real," Hermione said quietly. She sighed, her face unfocused, lips slightly parted.

They were both silent for a while. A clock chiming made Ginny look at her watch. "I got team practice. I should change and go. Will you be alright on your own?" she asked as she stood up.

"Yes," Hermione nodded, motioning to the pile of paper in front of her. "I got enough to keep me busy."

"Still feel up to the small gathering in the evening?"

"Yeah, gotta do it sometime, right?"

"Are you still thinking about leaving back to Scotland?"

"I might have to, but let's leave that until tomorrow. I think I'd like to try and enjoy this party," she said with a small smile.

Ginny returned the smile. She bent down to hug Hermione.

"Are you going to tell Ron?"

Hermione's eyes travelled to the box on the table. She was tempted to reach for it, look at the ring, put it on her finger, but she couldn't help the feeling that it just wasn't truly hers in this moment in time.

"I think I should, at some point. I just need to pick the right moment."

"Right." Ginny went to change and came back some time later dressed in her Holy Head Harpies practice robes. Before she went out the door, she turned to Hermione, "Maybe I shouldn't be saying this, but he's always been mad about you, and I don't think any dark magic could've cursed it out of him."

With that, she left the flat and left Hermione to think about her words. He's always been mad about you.

Hermione trembled with fear and happiness both because she just realised, she was a little mad about him too.

A faint breeze passed through the room, lifting Hermione's hair all around her, sending bits of parchment fluttering around. There was a momentary tremor to the glass in mirrors and picture frames. Crookshanks fixed his eyes on her while Hermione stood up to gather the paper up. She never noticed that all the windows were closed.

Hermione was happy to be back in Hogsmeade. They had all Apparated there earlier, still having some time before the party would start, so each of them went separate ways. Ron, joined by George, went to Zonko's to discuss business while Hermione had spent a full hour in Scrivenshaft's, looking at quills and rolls of parchment. A part of her couldn't believe she was actually purchasing items like these instead of using regular paper and pen or pencil, but as soon as she touched the texture of the parchment, heard the scratching of the quill, she couldn't resist. Those sounds were familiar and natural in her ears, like the crackle of a warm fire and rain pattering on windows.

Harry and Ginny walked around the village hand in hand, stopping by Madam Puddifoot's to pick up a few cakes and snacks to bring to the gathering. Finally when they all gathered in front of the Three Broomsticks, Harry was about to walk in but Ginny pulled him and the others in another direction.

"Hog's Head?" Harry asked, screwing up his face in amusement when they stopped in front of the old pub. "You've invited everyone to Hog's Head?"

"For old times' sake," she said, grinning. "It's where our first Dumbledore's Army meeting took place," she added, glancing back at Ron and Hermione behind them. They looked up at the shabby building with quizzical but curious expressions. In the distance they could see Hogwarts castle, which was again a beautiful sight.

"I think it's a brilliant idea, I haven't seen Aberforth in ages," Harry said and kissed the top of Ginny's head.

Inside they were greeted by Aberforth, Dumbledore's brother if Hermione remembered correctly. He was happy to see them, remarking that having them over legally and without breaking school rules or Death Eater curfew was always a nice change.

The place looked like he had made a bit of effort to clean it. There was light coming in through the windows and the counter and tabletops actually didn't have any grime on them.

Within minutes, they could hear multiple cracking sounds from outside, announcing the arrival of guests. Hermione and Ron were once more overwhelmed by hugs and handshakes. Some of these people they had already met in Diagon Alley once or twice. Thanks to photographs and a couple of Pensieve excursions Harry had taken them on, they had a good handle on who was who.

Hermione noticed Lavender Brown arriving, giving Ron another heartfelt embrace, but she later approached her as well, greeting her the same. Seamus and Dean arrived together and lifted Ron off his feet as they hugged him. George was at the bar, chatting to Aberforth, his chin supported by his palm. Aberforth was levitating multitude of beers and pumpkin juice jugs towards the tables.

Soon the bar was almost full. Fleur and Bill arrived, saying they left Victoire at the Weasleys together with little Teddy, happy to have a bit of a break. An hour or so into the party, the door opened and in walked a tall dark-skinned girl. Ron and Hermione both recognised her as Angelina Johnson. She greeted Ron especially enthusiastically.

"This guy! Helped make my dream of winning the Quidditch Cup while being captain true. Even when I doubted you at first, you totally pulled through."

That initiated a chorus of Weasley is Our King, making Ron go absolutely red in his face, but his pleased smile was undeniable. Hermione was cheering along, smiling at him from across the room. He shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly, raising his beer in her direction.

The party was so crowded and busy that they had hardly spoken to each other. She was in the corner with Ginny and Parvati, Lavender and Cho Chang while Ron was exchanging, or rather listening to, stories from Dean and Seamus who were taking guesses at what school memory could be Ron's favourite.

"And then Moody, or whoever he actually was at the time, turned Draco Malfoy into a ferret. Trust me, that is your favourite memory from school, mate!"

"Draco Malfoy...eurgh, what a name," Ron spat. It was the second time that day he had heard it, but imagining Malfoy as a bouncing ferret was far more satisfying than thinking of him as his possible kidnapper.

"You really don't remember him, huh?" Dean asked incredulously. "Must've done a powerful number on you them who did it, you hated that guy."

"Let me guess, he was also a snake person?" Ron asked.

"A snake pe- oh! You mean a Slytherin. Hah, exactly, yeah, a ferret snake person," Seamus said and laughed. "I like this new creative Ron."

"What was wrong with the old one?"

"Actually, nothing," Seamus said, taking a swig of his beer. "You're literally the same person. Hermione's a bit different, though."

"How so?" Ron asked, trying to find her again with his eyes. He found her talking to Angelina and George at the bar. He was looking for hints of tension and worry in her. To his great delight, she looked like she was actually enjoying herself.

"Well, she's kind of reserved and quiet. Used to be quite confident and outspoken. Also I don't think she tried to make me sign any house-elf rights petition for the whole time that she's been here."

"I think that's about to change," Dean said, pointing over to where she was standing. An ancient looking house-elf emerged from Aberforth's back room, shuffling his feet toward Hermione, wriggling a colourful cloth in his hands.

"Right, I keep forgetting she doesn't remember anything, too. But you came back together, so are you like..." Seamus made a movement with his hand, gesturing between Ron and Hermione.

"What? Dating?" Ron asked, the tips of his ears going red. "I don't really know..."

"No, actually, I meant-" But Ron didn't find out what he had meant because Dean kicked Seamus under the table right around the same time as the door to the pub burst open with a crash.

A giant shadow obscured the fading light from outside. There was a hiccup and a sharp intake of breath.

"WHERE ARE THEY? Let me see 'em!" exclaimed a cracking but booming voice and then the ground beneath Ron's feet shook as the man from the door approached.

"Oh hello," Ron said timidly, recognising Hagrid from the Pensieve and the photos. He had been looking forward to meeting him, but the sheer size of him was a bit of a shock.

"I was visitin' Olympe's family in Greece. Took so long to ge' back after hearin' the news!" He pulled Ron into a bone-crushing hug, lifting him off the ground to a general sound of chuckles. "Where is my Hermione?" Hagrid sobbed.

She soon stepped out of the crowd, smiling up at Hagrid shyly.

"All grown up," he sobbed as he scooped her up into his arms, hugging her and Ron both.

"We can't have grown up much since you last saw us," Ron said, his voice little choked from the hugging.

Hagrid slowly set them down and ordered them all a round of butterbeers. They sat at one of the tables, Hagrid's chair dangerously creaking underneath him. Harry approached them all, giving Hagrid a pat on his shoulder.

"Always good to see you come back from a holiday with your face intact," Harry said.

"Yeah, almost go' into a bi' of a skirmish on mah way back through Hungary when we stopped ter see a nest of Horntails. But Bucky showed them. Protects me like a golden egg tha' one, still. Oh he'll be so thrilled to see yer when yer come to visit. I couldn't bring him here tonight because of some rules," Hagrid said, frowning in Aberforth's direction.

"That thing leaves enormous droppings all over the place," the old man responded gruffly and turned back to the conversation he was having with George and now Angelina.

"Oh, is this the lethal horse bird?" Ron asked as the name dawned on him.

"Stop calling everything and everyone horse bird and snake people, there's names for it. Bucky's a hippogriff," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

"Oh you remember," Hagrid beamed, his sobs once more threatening to overwhelm him. "I heard your memory's been tampered with but of course you remember Bucky, how couldya not? You went through some crazy things together, and you tried so hard to save him in yer third year. And so did Ron! Researchin' his case for hours and days." Tears streamed down Hagrid's cheeks now. "Oh how I've missed yeh two wonderful kids!" Hagrid wailed as he embraced them again.

"Bloody hell," said Ron, massaging his ribs when he was released, "and I thought my mother was an emotional nutter," he mumbled, but he was smiling all the way through.

"I gotter go see to Fang and feed Bucky, ran straight here to see yeh," Hagrid said, getting up. The chair underneath them sprung back into its regular shape. "I'll be back and bring some of my cake. I keep some under a preserving charm that Hermione had taught me for perishables once," he said with a wink her way and left the pub.

Harry shot Hermione a reproachful look she couldn't quite understand. What was wrong with cakes? Everyone liked them.

"Two rock cakes in a row," Harry said with a tragic sigh, "I better go and get another one of these," he said, shaking an empty beer bottle. "You two are good?" he asked, turning to Ron and Hermione. They both nodded, their beers still half-full.

Ron was a bit shocked to find himself suddenly alone with Hermione. Everyone else was engaged in a conversation with someone, but he knew it wouldn't last long. She was sitting next to him and he brushed his leg against hers. When she didn't pull her leg away, just smiled, he took a hold of her hand before he could change his mind.

"You doing okay?"

She turned to look at him. She was smiling but her eyes were tired. Perhaps it was the beer. He was starting to feel a bit knackered by the drink and conversation himself.

"I'm fine, it's nice, just getting a bit overwhelmed as usual. I feel like my brain can only deal with so much information," she laughed. Ron realised that her hand was still in his, she didn't pull away.

"I was thinking...after this, or you know, tomorrow, or another day after that, sometime during the week maybe-"

"How far ahead are you planning here?" she interrupted, still laughing.

Ron cracked a smile and cleared his throat.

"Hello Hermione, hello Ron." They both looked up to find the source of the light airy voice. There was a slim girl with silvery blonde hair standing next to their table. She was holding a basket full of strange purple fruit and smiling at them, but the next second she frowned. "Oh no, I interrupted an intimate moment. I'm sorry, I was too excited to see you both and barged in quite rudely. I will give you some time to be together and come later."

"No, wait," Ron said. "You're Luna, aren't you?" He was a bit upset the question he had been building up to hadn't been asked, but seeing Luna suddenly sparked immense joy in him.

Luna smiled at them. Harry rejoined them together with Ginny who hugged Luna tightly. "So good to see you!" Ginny squealed in Luna's ear. "How is travelling?"

"Oh it's lovely. Seeing all these wonderful places and creatures every day is what I've always wanted to do. I brought you porti strawfigs from Portugal. It's where I'm stationed now. I popped in for a weekend to see daddy and of course you when I got the invitation from Ginny. These," she said, passing the basket over to Hermione, "help with memory recalling. I wish I could get you powder from the Crumple Horned Snorkacks' fur shavings, that would help way more, but they're so hard to find."

"Oh really?" Hermione asked, genuine interest showing in her face. "I don't remember reading about them in the books. What are they?"

Harry and Ginny both exchanged looks, forcing down a laugh while Ron just felt vaguely amused. The three of them stood there talking for a while and Ron left them to go to the bathroom. On his way back, Fleur, George and Bill stopped him to have a shot of firewhiskey with them.

Fleur and Bill both were quite tipsy at that point, gesticulating wildly with their hands.

"It's so good to get out of the house in the evening for a bit," Bill said as he clinked his glass with the others.

Fleur's blonde hair whipped around her face like silk and Ron found himself staring at her quite stupidly for a bit before someone bumped into his shoulder and he came back to his senses. It was Bill.

Ron went scarlet in the face, but Bill only gave him a wolfish grin. "It's okay, little brother, it's just her Veela charm, she can't control it as much when she's tipsy."

"Yes, sorry," Fleur said and hiccuped. "But it's no worry, I know Ron is ze best," she said and kissed him on the cheek. "You wouldn't believe how 'elpful and strong 'e was back when 'e was staying with us for Christmas in seventh year."

"Wait what?" said Ron. "Seventh year? But I was with Harry and Hermione, on the run. We only got to your place much later."

"Well yes and no," Bill began, "You ran off for a bit, came to our doorstep all miserable and beat up. You stayed with us for a couple of weeks before you disappeared again."

Fleur swayed on the spot and leaned toward Bill, widening her eyes at him. She pressed a hand to her lips and looked away. Bill looked sheepish while George sipped his firewhiskey silently.

"Sorry, mate," Bill said, clearing his throat and putting his glass down on the counter. He leaned against it to steady himself. "I thought you knew."

"I left them?" Ron took a step back. He glanced over at Hermione and Harry who were still laughing and in conversation with Luna. "On their own, in the middle of a war?"

"It was 'orrible for you, I could see it," Fleur said to him. She was looking at him with pity, which in that moment, he hated. "Couldn't wait to get back. And you did. You found zem again and brought zem back to safety from that awful place."

"But that wasn't me. I don't, I don't know, but it was the house-elf. Kreacher? No. Damn, wait," Ron snapped, gripping the counter for support as well. He was desperately trying to recall Harry's accounts and stories and the few memories he had seen in the Pensieve, but it was all a mess. He couldn't believe his ears. He felt embarrassed in front of them all, in front of George who refused to look at him, in front of Bill who would surely never run out on his friends, in front of Fleur who felt so bad for revealing a truth to him he clearly wasn't equipped to handle.

The sudden weight of not being able to remember anything, not being able to make sense of such an important and horrible fact about himself made his head spin.

"I need some air," he said, going outside.

He had hoped that the cool evening would calm him down, but he couldn't stop himself from breathing fast and uneven. He felt as if he was being choked and his composure was breaking. Why is this making him feel so horrible? He couldn't understand, but it came from somewhere deep within, a terrible sense of shame. He was imagining all sorts of scenarios in his head. Why did no one tell him?

He realised he was still holding the firewhiskey glass. He put it to his lips to take a swig but the sudden smell of it nauseated him.

What he knew was that they had got to Shell Cottage after Malfoy Manor, a place and time and memory that Harry mostly skimmed over. Harry had been looking at Hermione in that moment, Ron now remembered. What did it mean? And what happened there?

His headache was deepening. Every time he blinked he could see Hermione lying motionless on the ground, bleeding. Was it a memory or was it twisted imagination? Was he absent from that moment as well, when she and Harry needed him most? He didn't know, maybe he would never know.

Something snapped inside of him. He threw the firewhiskey against the wall. It smashed, broken glass and liquor flying in all directions.

Harry had told him – 'you were so loyal, a hero', because Ron had been insecure. Now Ron knew why he had always had feelings of doubt. Because years ago he had walked out on his friends. Who else had he walked out on? How many times? Harry's words and the hidden forgiveness in them made him suddenly feel sick.

"Ron?"

He snapped his head in the direction of the voice and saw Hermione approach him. Automatically he backed away from her, unable to look her in the eye.

"I saw you leave all of a sudden, are you alright?"

"I left you, during the war," he blurted out. He was ashamed to admit it to her but at the same time couldn't hold it back.

She looked at him for a moment. He expected shock or confusion, but she just nodded her head. "Oh," she said.

He felt as though someone had just kicked him in the chest.

"You knew?"

Hermione strode over to him, taking his hand. He wanted to move out of her way, he felt like he didn't even deserve her to touch him, but he couldn't. Her skin on his hand steadied him. The way she was looking at him didn't hint at her being angry or disappointed. He searched her face for signs of pity but couldn't find them. He hoped so much that she didn't pity him.

"Harry told me about that part, more or less. I still think he's leaving some more...gruesome parts out of the story for our sake."

"He should've told me," Ron said, his voice hard. "You should've told me."

Hermione bit on her bottom lip and looked away. She was quiet for a while, thinking. "I just don't think that you leaving is important to him at all," she said. "You came back. That's what he said, that you always come back."

Always come back. The words bore an ugly hole inside of him. So it must've been more than once.

"You cool, bro?"

Hermione and Ron both looked towards the door. George's head was popping out. When he saw them holding hands, he grinned and was about to retreat back inside, "Sorry, my bad."

"Wait," Ron said, walking past Hermione towards him. "Can you take me home?" He hated himself for not being able to look at her.

George paused, glancing between Ron and Hermione, as if waiting for her to ask to come along or say something. But she didn't.

"Okay, we can probably take Aberforth's floo, I'm too drunk to Apparate."

"Great," Ron said and made his way inside, his eyes downcast all the way.

George gave Hermione an apologetic look and disappeared into the pub.

As the door closed, Hermione released a long sigh. She was still processing the intense pain in Ron's eyes, the look of shame mingled with betrayal. No one had told him and he probably wasn't sure who to be more angry with, himself or everyone else.

Hermione had heard the story of how the locket was corrupting them all, but Ron the most for many underlying reasons. They had had a fight, because their camping in the woods had been scary, exhausting and fruitless for a long time. And then Ron had left. It had almost destroyed her and Harry both.

Harry had told her of how without her he would most likely had died during that time. He had mentioned about her magic, how she managed to get them out of Godric's Hollow and nurse him back to health after the terrible snake attack. And then Ron had come back one day. He had pulled Harry out of a frozen lake and together they had destroyed their first Horcrux.

In Hermione's eyes, Ron was a hero.

"You were mad at him for days, though," Harry had said. "I was worried you'd curse him on the spot when he appeared."

Hermione could imagine herself being angry, frustrated and hurt to have Ron walk out on them. Just like now, seeing him leave all upset and simmering under the surface, as if it was her fault that they both couldn't remember their past, also left her feeling angry.

"Hermione, hello!"

Hermione turned and saw Professor McGonagall striding up the path to Hog's Head.

"I'm running a bit late, I was finishing work on some assignments, but I was invited by Harry and Ginny to pop by, see my old students. I couldn't resist," she said with a small smile.

Seconds ago, Hermione had considered going back in after Ron, make him stay, talk to him. He was, after all, completely forgetting that she knew exactly what it felt like not being able to remember the defining and most significant things about oneself. But perhaps he needed to figure this out on his own.

"Hello, Professor," Hermione said. She tried her best to push the thought of Ron away and smile.

"Oh it's been years since you didn't have to call me that. I'm Minerva for you, of course, just like I told you at the Burrow."

"Of course, sorry, Harry still keeps calling you Professor all the time, too."

"That's very nice of him," McGonagall smiled. "Now let's go inside and talk about your magical progress. Has there been any breakthrough?"

They walked inside where McGonagall was briefly greeted by everyone. Hermione noticed that Ron and George had gone.

McGonagall ordered sherry while Hermione decided she had probably drunk enough that evening.

"Not really," Hermione answered. "I've been trying to practice, reading an awful lot of theory, but nothing has happened yet. I don't even feel the magic. Couple of days ago there were sparks flying out of my wand, but..." she blushed suddenly, "Ron was helping me, holding my hand in that moment, and so I think it was him rather than me."

McGonagall frowned. "Don't underestimate the connection between you. It could really help. Witches and wizards' powers react to one another all the time in many different ways." When Hermione didn't respond, McGonagall added, "It's good that you're studying. If we can't work with our hands, we need to keep our minds sharp."

"I've been reading up on memory charms affecting magical abilities. Not a lot of research has been done on the topic. Even a strong Obliviate curse doesn't erase magical abilities, the victim just may lose control of them."

"There can always be bigger magic at play. A lot of our lore has still not been explored, it will never be. This power at the heart of our universe will always keep coming up with new surprising ways of functioning. You probably don't remember this, but shortly before your disappearance, you've been dabbling with a bit of experimental magic. I have your correspondence with Professor Flitwick here," McGonagall said as she took out a couple of neatly folded letters. "He's retired and living in Scandinavia, but I might be able to coax him to visit his old workplace and have a chat with you."

"Yes, I think I found some of his among my documents, but I couldn't make much sense of them." Hermione took the letters in her hands. "I found notes. About protective magic without wands. Much like the Protego spell, but bigger."

"It's what you two have been discussing. Protection charms became your forte after your travels during seventh year. Taking them beyond the wand is always a risk, however. It can affect us in a lot of ways. You're using power that is fed by emotions, which are mostly an unstable source of magic. I could never study something so unpredictable myself, I've always preferred perfecting the exact."

Hermione thought about this. Her skin had a distant feel of suddenly burning.

"How could I ever attempt wandless magic when I can't even use my own wand?" she asked, the question addressed more to herself than to McGonagall.

"Sometimes our hearts are capable of the biggest magical feats, so don't lose yours," she said with stern but kind eyes and took another sip of her sherry.

Later that night, after Harry and Ginny had taken her back to the flat, she lay in bed for hours, staring up at the ceiling. Notes about protective charms were scattered by her bed. The rest of her papers were haphazardly tossed on the desk. She hadn't had the energy to tidy up earlier.

Her mind was still racing from after the party. Being in the moment with all her old friends had felt fresh and easy. Now, however, faces and names swam in her thoughts like potion ingredients she couldn't put in line or make sense of. Ron leaving her behind at the party without a word made her heart rate go up, and this time not in a good way.

McGonagall's words also occupied the space in her head. And then there was one last thing, glimmering under the moonlight shining in through the window.

Hermione's eyes travelled to the small vial containing the pale blue liquid.

Shortly before everyone had gone to bed, Harry pulled her aside and gave it to her.

"Hey, I've talked to Ginny. She told me you found out about...well, you know. I can understand how having to wrap your head around it might be difficult. I'm sure I could put more memories together, but I'm still only getting the hang of this memory snagging from my brain, so..." He had handed her the vial and grinned. "I think you should look at it when you're ready, together with Ron."

Hermione had nodded and said goodnight. She put the vial on the table where it still lay. Her eyes were glued to it, same as the box with the ring. Two things that held the answer to her and Ron's relationship. One was a promise, the other probably the foundation of it. She would not look at the memory without Ron, she had decided that. No matter how angry she was with him, or he with her, he would just have to calm down and come to his senses.

She had to tell him, she knew she had to. Even at the cost of ruining what they had carefully been building the last few weeks.

It wasn't right keeping things away from him, neither from her for that matter. Lately she had been having more nightmares. She had dutifully recorded them in the dream diary where they felt nothing more than thought-up horror stories, but when she lay in bed at night like now, some of those images were coming alive.

She didn't blame Harry for not going into great detail of some of their adventures. Perhaps he was only taking his time, not wanting to shock them with the true deep horror of some of the stuff they had been through.

The sleep finally overtook her and she dreamt. She was lying on her back, staring up at a crystal chandelier that glittered in dim candlelight. Her body felt as though it was on fire, seconds were hours. A dark flame scorched her limbs and organs until there was only a splintering pain and screams tearing from her throat.

The pain subsided for a second and she took in a sharp breath. Tears were running down her face. Her mind was empty of ideas, hands empty of a wand she could protect herself with. Faces swam in her vision. A woman with a look of terrible hatred mingled with fear standing over her, a beast-like man crouching by her side, licking his yellow teeth and lips, unable to contain himself, unable to waitto tear into her.

"Hermione!" Ron's voice tore through her consciousness, screaming her name in such anguish it made her think she was probably already dead.

The woman took out a knife and bent down to her. Hermione searched her soul for a shred of magic she could help herself to survive with, concentrating all the life and the desire to live within her to dig deep and far. She thought of Harry and Ron down in the cellar, of the life she had shared with them, the friendship that had saved her. Something broke through her soul and her skin.

The air between her and the woman rippled for a moment, holding the other up as if suspended in midair, but it only lasted a second. It wasn't enough. She took the blade and cut into her skin.

With a gasp, Hermione sat up, covered in cold sweat.

Her hands crawled to her throat, searching and feeling for the wound. There was nothing there, just smooth skin. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room. She got up and realised she was shuddering. Breathing in and out, Hermione tried to steady herself, but couldn't.

As she blinked her eyes, images from the dream were becoming paler, lost in the never-ending haze of her mind. The woman with the knife, the werewolf breathing in her face, the hint of hope and power she had felt, all slipping away just as dreams do.

A soft noise startled her as it came from the living room. She turned and walked to the door, her hands desperately shaking. Before she reached it, there was a soft knock.

Her breathing steadied. An intruder out to hurt her surely wouldn't knock politely.

Hermione opened the door. Still dressed in the same robes he had been wearing at the party, Ron stood in the door, soot covering the end of his nose. Hermione reached her hand out to brush it off.

"You've got something on your..." He grasped her hand and pulled her in to kiss her.

Author's Note: This one turned out to be a little bit on the longer side length-wise, hope you don't mind. Thanks so much to all you guys who reviewed last time, it made me so happy. Of course all of you who are reading, I feel blessed you chose this story. It's always so cool to hear what you think, lots happened in this chapter, so if you have some time, please review :)