CHAPTER SEVEN: 1998

Like always, it was the pain that woke Neville.

As he drifted into consciousness, he was aware of every part of his body aching, making his bed feel like harsh stone. He steeled himself and sat up, wincing as the pain shot up in intensity at the movement. He wondered if the creaking and clicking he felt in his bones was permanent.

The Carrows really hadn't pulled their punches with him the previous day. They always made sure not to make him an invalid, so as to not give him an excuse to get cared for in the hospital wing, but he doubted they were competent enough to fully heal him after they were done breaking him even if they wanted to.

He knew that he couldn't stay in bed all day or someone would come looking for him, and there would be consequences, so he forced his protesting body to stand up and walk towards the door, past the four empty beds (three of which were always empty now). He slowly started to make his way down the stairs toward the common room, his joints screaming in protest with every step.

As soon as he reached the bottom of the stairs, every face he saw with his non-swollen eye turned to look at him, and quickly many people sprang to their feet, like soldiers at attention. In a way, this made it even worse. It just reminded him that nothing at Hogwarts was the way it was supposed to be, because nobody should be looking towards Neville Longbottom. But since the start of the school year, Neville had somehow found himself among the leaders of the students not willing to lay down, and people had been looking towards him more and more, particularly in the last couple of months.

And he hated it, because it was a really sad state that they didn't have any better options.

"Neville!" he heard a voice call, and he turned toward a haggard-looking Seamus. His roommate came up to him and subtly gave him a shoulder to lean on as he led Neville across the room.

"We need to get some more seventh years to patrol around the first years, mate," Seamus said in a low voice, "The Carrows are starting to drop all pretense, just torturing them for fun now."

The older students had started taking it on themselves to accompany first years throughout the day, ready to lead them through some of the shortcuts and hidden passageways they were more familiar with at first sight of the Carrows in a bad mood. And if that failed, to draw their attention and take whatever punishment they felt like dishing out, since they could better take it than 11-year-olds.

"Alright," Neville grunted, "I'll ask around, but we're spread pretty thin already. I'll get someone taking Transfiguration to stay behind after class and talk to McGonagall, ask her to get the younger kids doing work for her so they won't become targets."

"Careful, though," warned Seamus, "If McGonagall gets chucked, we're as good as done for."

Neville shrugged off Seamus as they reached the fireplace, and sat down on the sofa. Seamus left him alone with the person he had come to rely on the most this year.

But Ginny didn't say anything as he joined her, and just continued to stare into the flames. Ginny didn't say much of anything these days.

When they had first arrived at the house of terror that had once been their school last September, it was Ginny who was the first one to resolve to restart the DA. She always had the most ideas on how to resist and disrupt, both in small everyday ways and big, risky stunts, like their attempt to steal the sword. She quickly emerged into the closest thing they had to a leader. Even just being around her proved to be inspiring to people, she seemed to just radiate Hope that others could survive on. It seemed like no matter how bad things got, no matter how hard they were knocked down, Ginny would get back up with a laugh.

All of that changed at Christmas.

When Death Eaters had attacked the Hogwarts Express and dragged Luna off right in front of them, that was what finally broke Ginny, and made that light of Hope go out. Until then, Neville hadn't noticed just how much the school's last Weasley had been relying on the strange girl for support. She had been putting on a brave face about her brother totally-for-real being sick at home with spattergroit and her boyfriend being who-knows-where (they had publicly broken up, but Neville had referred to Harry as her boyfriend around Ginny and she hadn't corrected him), but inside she had been barely keeping it together. With the loss of Luna too, she hadn't been the same since coming back from Christmas. Neville was really the only one she had left, and he tried to support her lead like at the start, but it mostly just amounted to Ginny nodding and going along with what he said.

"Hey," he finally said to her.

"Hmm," she just grunted in response.

"Does your hand still hurt?"

She just shrugged, and Neville sighed. She was being even more unresponsive than usual that morning, and Neville suspected he knew why.

Today was Valentine's Day.

Not that anyone would know if they didn't look at a calendar. Even if all festivities for all holidays hadn't been banned, for pretty much all students not in Slytherin, their dating lives were non-existent. Being publicly affectionate with someone basically advertised to the world what your weakness was. And that's what life at Hogwarts was now, just an unending, terrifying attempt to never show weakness or present targets.

But he knew that Ginny was still picturing what her first Valentine's Day with Harry could have been, in a better world.

It wasn't like Neville, of all people, would have anything to do on Valentine's Day anyway, but it made his blood boil that something that was supposed to be so basic and happy was turned into another weapon of oppression. He got an idea. He knew it was probably stupid and pointless, but his brain instantly latched onto it.

"Hey, how about tonight," he said, leaning over to her conspiratorially, "we do something to break the routine? Nobody was here for Christmas anyway, but we can still do something to remind people about this holiday. If you still have that last box of customizable fireworks from Fred and George, we could set them to fly down to the Great Hall at dinner and explode into big hearts. Maybe we could get one to fly right up Snape's robes."

Ginny slowly turned to look at him as if he just suggested that she snog Peeves.

"Seriously, Neville?" she asked in a tired voice, "Everyone here is afraid for their lives. We've already lost friends. And, out of all the things the Death Eaters are doing, you want to hit them back because they won't let kids send stupid cards and poems to each other? It's a stupid holiday anyway," she added in barely a whisper, not sounding convinced of her own words.

"It's not the fact that they banned Valentine's Day," said Neville urgently, "it's why they're doing it."

There was a pause as Ginny continued to frown at him. "They did it to make everyone miserable, Neville," she said. "These aren't complicated people."

"No, it's not just that," said Neville. "They're trying to isolate us. They're trying to prevent us from keeping any kind of real personal connection with each other. Because in their world, with their bloodlines and arranged marriages, relationships and family are just another power grab, and a way to make more little servants of the Dark Lord. They want a world where no one is loyal to each other and are instead loyal to the idea that Magic is Might. They want a world without love except love towards You-Know-Who. We have to remind people that there's more to life than just survival. We're doing this so we can live in a safe world with the people we love."

As he spoke, Neville saw Ginny's eyes start to slowly harden with resolve. Sometimes, they became so focused on surviving each individual day that they lost sight of the horrifying bigger picture that the Death Eaters were trying to create, but he could see that she was being filled with a new wave of righteous anger.

Neville always knew that Ginny would eventually start fighting again. It wasn't in her nature to stay down forever, if nothing else just because she was too prideful to give up and keep herself safe while Harry was risking his life.

"Well….your idea about the fireworks is still mental, though," admitted Ginny, speaking more clearly and sitting up straighter.

"What's wrong with it?" said Neville, a tad aggressively. He wasn't actually committed to the idea, he just wanted to bait her into engaging.

"It's way too risky for just a symbolic victory," said Ginny, "We don't want the Carrows frightened and panicked, they might just start shooting off killing curses left and right in the Great Hall."

"So what, you've got a better idea?" Neville challenged her.

Ginny thought silently for a moment. "As a matter of fact, I do."

Neville couldn't stop the small smile appearing on his face. "I'm all ears."

Harry had been staring at the map for so long that his eyes were starting to cross.

When he had first received the Marauder's Map, Harry was in awe. It was one of the most impressive magical devices he had ever seen, and it was exactly what he needed at the time, it was a dream come true. And when he had learned that his father had helped make it, it became even more precious to him. It and the Invisibility Cloak were the only things he had inherited from his parents. There was no doubt that the map was one of Harry's most treasured possessions.

But as he sat at the entrance of the tent and glared hard at the dot labelled "Ginevra Weasley," he couldn't help but start angrily thinking of the map as a useless piece of junk.

That dot told him that Ginny was alive and in the castle, but nothing else. It didn't tell him whether she was injured, or crying, or whether she hated him. He had pushed her away to protect her, and he now realized that was partly because he had always assumed that Hogwarts would be the safest place for her. No matter how bad things got in the outside world, the school would remain at least a little bit better. Even at Dumbledore's funeral, he hadn't anticipated the Ministry falling and Snape becoming headmaster. For all he knew, he had abandoned her right as she went from the frying pan into the fire.

For all he knew…

That really was the worst part of it. Apart from hearing about Ginny, Neville, and Luna attempting to steal Gryffindor's sword, Harry had no way of knowing how bad things were at Hogwarts. Snape had been strangely merciful, giving them detention with Hagrid, but that might have just been because they were all pure-bloods. When Harry had been in the Ministry, apart from the redecorating, not much seemed to be different. People still went about their jobs like before, if you weren't a muggle-born or married to one there was a good chance your personal life didn't change much with the coup.

Harry suspected that might be the point, only go after a specific group of people at first so everyone else lets you do it. It was possible Voldemort's plan for Hogwarts was to make things worse and worse so slowly that no one would be tempted to fight back until it was too late.

And even though that gave him a small glimmer of hope for Ginny's safety, he also knew that things could be much worse by now. And they likely would have no such luck if they tried a second stunt like that.

He looked again at Ginny's dot. She was sitting in the common room, close to the fireplace by Neville. He prayed that she wasn't planning more trouble, but he knew that such a thing was exactly the kind of mental that made him fall for her in the first place. Ginny was braver than he ever would be, because she didn't have a cloak or a map.

That was another thing that made the stupid piece of paper useless, he couldn't do anything with it besides pine after his ex-girlfriend's dot. He should have given it to her to keep her safe. As much as he prized it, he would have given it to her instantly if she had asked. Hell, after that kiss on his birthday, he would have given her everything that he owned. He regretted not giving her everything he could to help her at school.

….Actually, that wasn't true. What Harry actually regretted was not taking Ginny with them. He knew that it was selfish and illogical, but he couldn't shake the vague feeling that if Ginny were here, they would have made more progress on their mission.

Harry thought back to a time she had helped him when he was at his lowest, and his heart ached he missed her so much.

Anything's possible if you've got enough nerve.

More than anything, more than food or clues or wands that worked, Harry was short on nerve. All three of them were.

Even though she still had the Trace and couldn't do magic, Harry would give anything just to be able to pick Ginny's brain right now. He thought she wouldn't have been as vulnerable to the locket as the rest of them, and she would have come up with some completely mental scheme that would somehow work.

And he was convinced that she alone would understand why he needed to find the Hallows.

Harry turned around and saw Hermione sitting in one of the armchairs, looking at one of the books she had brought and read already, but her eyes weren't moving. He knew she was too nervous about Ron to read, even if she wouldn't admit it. It had been Ron's idea to have a "poke around" of Upper Flagley, for no other reason than it was a wizarding village, in an increasingly desperate attempt to make any progress with the Horcruxes, so he was the one who had taken some polyjuice potion, donned the cloak and headed into the village. They had all grown so much that they could no longer fit multiple people under the cloak without making noise when they stepped on each other's feet and exposing the occasional ankle, so they figured it was actually safer to just send one person. Harry bitterly assumed that Ron only volunteered to go to get back into Hermione's good graces more than anything else.

Harry knew that he should say something to her to make her feel better about Ron, but nearly every conversation they had devolved into an argument these days, until they were barely speaking at all. He looked at the book she was pretending to read — not The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She had stopped even looking at that book ever since Harry had become interested in the Hallows, saying it was a nonsense dead end. When Harry asked her why she thought Dumbledore left it to her, then, she would always deflect and change the subject.

He scowled and turned back to face out into the cold air. She didn't get it. She kept saying he should forget about the Hallows and focus on the Horcruxes, as if he had a choice. For one, it wasn't like they had a plethora of clues about the Horcruxes he was ignoring, and two, the Horcruxes were only half the problem. Even if they did manage to destroy all the parts of Tom Riddle's soul in all the cursed items, that still left them with the piece of his soul in his body. At the end of this, Harry still had to, somehow, kill Voldemort. No big deal, just defeat the most powerful wizard in the world, on his own.

He had to believe in the Hallows because they were his only hope. Harry saw two choices. Either he found the Elder Wand and used it to win, or remained in hiding for years as he tried to get better at dueling. And Harry wasn't sure he could keep going that long. Not only were they barely surviving, and leaving people to live under tyranny…..

He had to get back to Ginny. The only thing keeping him going, after Horcruxes or Hallows, was the thought of ending this in time to have some kind of normal life with her. End it before she gave up on him...and found someone else.

He looked back down at the map. Ginny's dot hadn't moved from its spot in the common room, next to Neville's dot. It occurred to him that, although the days had blurred together, and they didn't know exactly what day it was, it had to be close to Valentine's Day. They were sitting rather close together—

"Mischief managed," Harry hissed at the map, and stuffed it back into his pocket.

Ron still hadn't found anything. Which made sense, since he didn't know what he was looking for.

He had covered pretty much the whole village of Upper Flagley, casting revealio on every house and tree he could see, prodding anything for signs of dark magic. He was even hoping to feel that familiar dark, hopeless sense of dread that he knew from the locket, just to give him hope that he was close to another Horcrux. His hopes weren't as high as he made out to Harry and Hermione, but he had learned the hard way that he needed to keep doing something. It was all of the nothing and the unchanging days that had started eating away at him, and the locket had taken advantage of it. Harry said they were wasting time, but the way Ron saw it, time was the only thing they had in abundance.

Plus, it got him away from the hostile tension between his two best friends. He wondered if they had killed each other by now. Although, he supposed it was just karma, since Harry had been in similar situations, stuck between Ron and Hermione before.

Harry was convinced that the only reason Ron wasn't jumping on Team Hallows was because he wanted to get back into Hermione's good graces, and that wasn't…..entirely true. Ron wasn't opposed to the idea in principle, he just wasn't clear what Harry even wanted. He said that he needed the Elder Wand. Brilliant, what next? Where do they go? What did Harry actually want them to do? As hopeless as they were about the Horcruxes, they were even more hopeless about the Hallows.

That said, Ron made no pretense that shamelessly sucking up to Hermione wasn't also a part of it. Having her not hate him anymore would be more than worth a small thing like his dignity.

Before he gave up this latest mission as a bust, Ron stopped between a post office and an ice cream shop, and slipped down an alley that he knew none of the muggles could see. Hogsmeade was the only all-magical village in Britain, but Upper Flagley was one of several semi-magical ones, with large enough wizard populations to have their own smaller versions of Diagon Alley, such as the one Ron now found himself in. He had come this way before, but he'd give it another once-over before heading back to the tent.

He had to be agile to avoid running into anyone while under the cloak, as well as avoid stepping in any muddy spots to leave phantom footprints. He walked past several magical shops, and grew frustrated at the surprisingly large number of witches and wizards who were out and about on a cold, windy February day.

He approached one shop that seemed particularly swarmed, and couldn't help but slow down out of curiosity, moving to hug the wall of the neighboring building to keep out of the way. It was a gawky, tacky gift shop, covered in explosions of red and pink. Patrons were bustling about looking into the front windows at boxes of sweets, pieces of jewelry, and bouquets of flowers that continuously changed color and shape.

Ron looked around at the crowd again, and saw that most of them were in pairs. Many of them holding hands, and the realization hit him like a brick: of all the days to try to sneak into a village, he had to choose Valentine's Day.

He was about to quickly Disapparate back to their camp, but he couldn't stop himself from looking again enviously at all the happy couples. There were so many young women looking smitten and he instantly concocted a ridiculous scenario in his head of Hermione swooning with gratitude for him breaking their depressing monotony. He looked back at the crowded shop…

He shouldn't.

He really shouldn't.

Even if he could maneuver around without getting the cloak yanked off of him, Hermione would be more likely to chew him out for stealing than appreciate anything he got her. He moved to leave, but then saw something which froze him in place, terrified to move a finger. Marching down the lane was a group of five of the ugliest witches and wizards Ron had ever seen in his life. Their robes, their sadistic confidence, and the fact that everyone around them avoided eye contact and gave them a wide berth told Ron exactly who they were: Snatchers.

He stopped breathing, and tried to assure himself that they weren't actually looking for any fugitives right now. They wouldn't expect to find any in the middle of a town, they were just here to cause trouble and push people around. They were probably allowed to break whatever laws they wanted since they had a good record of catching muggle-borns, the only thing the Ministry actually cared about anymore.

As the Snatchers prowled toward the crowded shop, villagers abandoned what they were doing and scattered, torn from their romantic outings and suddenly reminded that oh yeah, the world had kind of ended last year. When the brutes arrived at the store front, a very unlucky couple chose the worst possible moment to walk out onto the street, holding hands, carrying bags, and broadcasting their happiness, ready to be crushed.

"YOU!" the biggest of the Snatchers barked at them, and their smiles instantly vanished. "Present containers for inspection!" the Snatcher snarled, flashing a grin that showed multiple missing teeth.

The man looked about to reach for his wand, but luckily for him his date grabbed his arm and stilled him. The smile on the biggest thug was so confident that you would almost think that he had any actual authority. The couple just stood in silence as the Snatchers...well, snatched everything they had just bought in the store (which all looked rather expensive).

"I think it's our civic duty to pass these to the authorities," said another one of the thugs, a bald woman with a sneering, nasally voice. "Any of these little trinkets could be cursed," she said as she ripped out a beautiful bracelet, but didn't hesitate to bite into it to see if it was real gold.

"And take a look at this!" exclaimed the big one, pulling out a lavishly wrapped box. He tore off the ribbons and the lid, and Ron could see rows of delicious looking chocolates, more fancy looking than anything he had seen at Honeydukes.

"These could be laced with any kind of dangerous, contraband potions." The Snatcher's face suddenly turned fierce. "So beat it before we decide that you two are mudbloods!"

The terrorized couple just scurried away, and the Snatchers made to exit the magical street with their ill-gotten gains.

But the sight of those chocolates lingered in Ron's mind. He remembered the chocolate that Lupin had given them on the train his third year. These days was like living under a constant Dementor attack, so maybe that was exactly what Hermione needed.

It wasn't really stealing if it was already stolen, right?

Suppressing his better judgement, Ron followed the Snatchers as they went down an alley, away from the magical part of the village. The big Snatcher had stuffed the chocolates in a frayed rucksack and slung it over his shoulder, and luckily he was bringing up the rear of the group.

Underneath the cloak, Ron carefully aimed his wand (although he wouldn't have lost sleep if he missed and sliced open the git's bum) and muttered the incantation, and a gash opened up in the bottom of the sack. He saw the elegantly-wrapped chocolate box start to fall to the ground, and quickly muttered accio to send it sailing towards him.

The Snatcher soon noticed that his prizes were falling into the mud, but by the time he spun around, Ron had caught it, turned on his heel, and Disapparated.

Hermione had lost count of the number of times she had read the same sentence on the page over and over. She knew it was pointless, even if she could concentrate, she had read this book cover-to-cover already. But she knew if she didn't have her hands where they were, white-knuckle gripping the book's hard cover, they would probably be busy pulling her hair out from stress.

She glared at the back of Harry's head, sitting in the entrance to the tent. She was tempted to shut the book and intentionally start another argument with him, just to have something to distract her.

It was his fault she had to let Ron go off on his own into the village. She couldn't very well vote down any chance, no matter how slim, to advance their mission with the Horcruxes, while she was doing everything she could to convince Harry to actually care about it and not fall further down the rabbit hole of his Hallows distraction.

But that didn't mean she had to like Ron being out there on his own. It drove her crazy. She had just gotten him ba—They had just gotten him back, the thought of losing him again made her feel sick.

But Ron was practically leaping at chances to do something brave and put himself in danger in order to keep her and Harry safe (well okay, her more than Harry). With Hermione and Harry so dysfunctional lately, Ron had basically slid into the role of the leader of their sad little group. None of the bitter hopelessness that he constantly wallowed in last autumn seemed to touch him. Now, he was the one keeping their spirits up and acting as the mature one when Harry and Hermione seemed about to explode.

Hermione kept telling herself that this new side of Ron was just him trying to get her forgiveness. It wasn't real, and it wasn't an indication that he actually knew what he was doing.

And it definitely wasn't attractive. It definitely didn't make her heart swell with pride for him. Absolutely not.

Hermione was determined to hold onto her cold disposition towards him, for the time being at least. It didn't matter that she was so relieved to have him back that she still felt an urge to embrace him and cry whenever she saw him, he didn't deserve to be let off the hook yet.

He had left. He had left them. More importantly, he had left her. She still had nightmares about that night. Chasing after him, the rain on her face mixing with her tears, as she humiliated herself calling his name, begging him to stay with her, before he Disapparated without paying her a second thought. All on his own, without wearing the locket. In her dreams, after that pop, she would suddenly find herself floating in total darkness, lost and helpless, before waking in a cold sweat.

So, while she was open to letting him live it down, she would be damned if she would make it easy for him.

But then, she heard Ron's voice outside the tent, greeting Harry (who just grunted in response) and she gave a sigh of relief and the muscles in her neck finally relaxed. A mocking voice in her head asked her who exactly she thought she was fooling.

She resolutely kept her eyes glued to the same spot on her page as she heard his footsteps tentatively walk up to her. He stood in silence in front of her armchair for several seconds before he awkwardly cleared his throat.

Hermione finally looked up from her book. "Oh, can I help you?" she said, trying her best to sound surprised, like she hadn't noticed his presence.

Ron was standing with his hands behind his back. He looked back and forth between her eyes and his feet, looking incredibly shy in a way that definitely wasn't adorable.

"I...er...came across something in the village," said Ron.

Hermione's eyes widened, suddenly uninterested in playing games with Ron and completely focused.

"Not anything Horcrux-related!" said Ron quickly, noticing her reaction. "Just...something I thought you would like."

From behind his back, he revealed something and placed it on the ottoman in front of her chair. It was a colorful, decorated box, tied with an elegant ribbon. Thanks to her parents, Hermione had never had much of a sweet tooth, but she recognized a gift box of chocolates when she saw one.

Hermione groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ron, how are you still thinking with your stomach!?"

"Hey, it's not for me, I got it for you! You've seemed like you could use it lately."

"And do I want to know how you got this?" she asked him harshly.

"Probably not," Ron shrugged, his hands in his pockets, "But I can say that I know where it came from and it's safe. I guess you're just going to have to trust me," he added pointedly.

Hermione sat completely still for several moments, not moving to take the chocolates or to tell him off.

"Oh, uh, one more thing," said Ron. He reached into his back pocket and revealed a single red rose. He used his wand to fill a glass with water and placed the flower inside.

Hermione gulped hard and felt her face grow hot, but tried to stay sensible. "Did you 'find' that too?"

"No, I conjured that," said Ron uneasily, rubbing the back of his neck. "I dunno...I guess I just got put in the mood to have some flowers around. I saw lots of people in the village walking around with them. You see…" he stopped his fidgeting and looked directly into her eyes, "I think today's Valentine's Day."

Hermione's breath hitched and her heart was pounding. The tension between them was suffocating, as the implication of what he said hung in the air. She actually had something she had fantasized about for years now: a real, actual Valentine's Day gift from Ron.

Ron visibly started to get nervous again at her hesitation. "Well….it's okay if you don't want it. You're right, I'm sorry, I was so stupid." He moved to take back the box.

"No!" Hermione said quickly, grabbing the box possessively.

"I mean," she cleared her throat and tried to regain her composure. "The damage is done now, there's no point in letting it go to waste. And I'll be damned if I reward your reckless behavior by letting you eat all of these yourself."

Ron gave a little smile, taking it as a win. "You got it, boss."

Hermione opened the box and her mouth watered at the decadent assortment of chocolates in all varieties. The whole box was filled, pieces placed in small squares arranged in rows...except for one conspicuously empty spot."

Hermione wordlessly looked at Ron with a raised eyebrow.

"Well okay, I had one," he said defensively, "hex me."

Hermione tried her best to keep a smile from spreading across her face, but she knew she didn't completely succeed.

"Well….thank you for the gesture," said Hermione with formal politeness. "Don't ever do anything like it again."

They settled back into a tense silence, and Hermione felt a bubble swelling in her chest that seemed about to burst and spew out everything that had remained unspoken between them. Ron opened his mouth, then closed it, looking like he was on the edge as she was. The silence seemed to stretch on forever—

"Ehem, well, er…" Ron suddenly coughed and broke her gaze, "I'll just….go make some tea." He walked away towards the small kitchen.

"Oh, for crying out loud," Hermione heard Harry groan from the tent entrance.

While Ron's back was turned, Hermione discretely took a long sniff of the rose. The scent brought her back to a warmer time, when she and Ron had been dancing at Bill and Fleur's wedding, surrounded by flowers.

Then, she plucked a chocolate out of the box and put it in her mouth, letting it melt over her tongue. She melted along with it, so much of the stress she had been feeling washing away.

"Mmmmm…" she hummed, closing her eyes.

"Huh?" said Ron, "You say something?"

"Nothing!" Hermione said quickly, snapping the box shut, and she felt herself blush.

In case you haven't noticed, Tsundere-Hermione is my favorite Hermione.

This chapter was heavy on angst, so the final one will be heavy on fluff.