"I still can't believe he'd do that," Hermione moans, leaning into Harry's shoulder, gripping his arm tightly as she tries to curl in closer to warm herself up. The fire sputters again, and he turns his gaze down at her with raised eyebrows.
"You can't believe Voldemort would try to get into my head?"
"No, Ron!" she replies immediately, as though he should have known that's who she'd been talking about, even though they haven't had anything resembling conversation in hours.
"I can't believe Ron would leave like that, let alone say those horrid things to you."
Harry groans, pressing his eyes shut in hopes of not letting himself think any harder on it.
His best friend.
"I shouldn't have brought it up, should I?" Hermione realizes weakly.
"We'll have to talk about it sometime," he says softly, hearing the desperation in her voice. "May as well be now."
The near-silence of the darkness of the forest is interrupted with the sounds of a chase; Harry's heart jumps back to the pressure of a shaken pop bottle as they both rise to their feet - Hermione, with her wand at the ready.
"They can't see us," she whispers, though he knows she's doubting the strength of her wards now, and unfortunately enough, so is he. "Can't hear us. Whoever they are...they can't."
"And if they can?"
They share a series of shaky breaths before Hermione raises her wand and quietly strengthens the spells over their area.
Harry's on watch when it happens again, Hermione - restlessly - sleeping inside the tent. This time, though, it doesn't sound like a chase, just a single person who doesn't really know what they're doing in the forest at night.
Harry could empathize.
"Not looking for us, then," he deduces, and gives the tent just one look before stealing off with Hermione's wand.
Not surprisingly, whoever it is runs from the sound of Harry's steps, and it's then he realizes just how idiotic he's being.
Oh, it's not like I'm going to say hello, he thinks, and shoves away Hermione's voice in his head.
It doesn't take Harry long to find the person - or rather, they find him.
"Potter?" comes a breathless, exhausted inquiry from behind him.
Fuck
**3 Hours Later***
Hermione jerked up, alerted that someone was near Malfoy's bed. He'd begged them, just for the night.
"Shut up, Draco!" A familiar whisper pierced the night.
"Yes, well, kind of hard to do that when your husband is out hunting Horcruxes and hasn't been heard from for over a bloody month!"
"Love, you know I'm sorry, just bloody Hermoine who won't leave me alone for longer than the time it takes to dip in the shower!" Harry whisper-shrieked at Malfoy. "Okay, now shut up, I need to get you out and back in before she wakes up in a few hours."
"Sleeper's Coma?"
Hermoine swallowed down the indignation that welled up, realizing her friend had bloody drugged her, to keep listening.
"Yeah, of course, I mean, she's getting nosier… Done!"
Malfoy fell forward into her friend's arms. Harry had a sweaty sheen on his face, possibly from twisting her wards - top-of-the-line if she said so herself- and leaned down for a kiss, his supposed enemy reciprocating quickly.
"Missed you, Drake, so much."
"Missed you too, Har. You know, Pans' been asking after you for the past month or so. Apparently, she and Blaise both 'miss you too much to bear.' So..."
Harry sighed. "I'm in trouble with her, aren't I."
"Big trouble. Also, apparently Blaise wants to propose, and he needs advice, since you're the one who proposed."
"...Fuck."
"Exactly." Malfoy pushed her friend backward, so that he fell on the bed, smirking like they were back in Hogwarts and pulling up Harry's shirt. "Now, let me show you just how much I missed you."
That was the last thing she saw before Hermione, strongest witch of generation and the brains of the Golden Trio fell into a dead faint.