Chapter One: Lost

The October night air was cool as it brushed against Hermione's cheeks.

She was sat outside the Weasleys' tent, her back against the chilly canvas. It was her turn to wear the locket and it was currently hung against her chest like a weight. She hated wearing the damn thing. It was almost like a tiny dementor was currently nestled against her clammy skin, sucking any bit of happiness out of her as soon as it blossomed. And happiness was already in short supply these days.

They had been traveling the countryside for weeks now, a month she was pretty sure. It had been nothing but miserable.

When they had fled the ministry and began traveling the countryside, no longer able to return home, things had gotten measurably worse. Ron, still healing, was just angry all the time. She knew why. She knew he was worried about his family, in pain because of his splinched arm, and hungry after a life of being well fed had been replaced by being lucky to get anything to eat at all each day.

And Harry… well Harry seemed to be handling it slightly better. That wasn't surprising though. Her best friend hadn't really known a period of uninterrupted happiness in his life. If he wasn't at home being abused and bullied by his family, he was being abused and bullied by the wizarding community at large. He understood misery and hunger a bit more than Ron.

Hermione… well she was trying her best. She wasn't handling it well at all. But she had gotten very good over the years of hiding her fear. Of pushing it down and rising to wherever she was needed. The boys each had their talents. Ron was strategic, he always had been. He viewed obstacles like the chess matches he loved so much, looking for the best route to defeat their enemies. Harry had his instinct, which was rarely wrong. He always seemed to pick up on things that she and Ron didn't. Things that shouldn't be true, shouldn't make sense, but were. He could be wrong of course. Their fifth year taught them that, she thought with a pang of grief at the memory that surfaced at that thought, of Sirius falling through the veil. But he was still often right. And he believed and pursued it even when no one else believed him. Draco Malfoy's face lingered in the back of her mind then. A memory accompanied by guilt that she tried to shove aside as she thought of their last year at school with another stab of grief. They hadn't believed him when he had warned them about Malfoy. And maybe if they had believed him, Dumbledore would still be here, and they wouldn't be on this seemingly pathless journey… But a part of her knew that they needed that from her. The boys were capable, yes, but she knew they depended on her for her knowledge, her logic, and most of all her usually level headedness. She was the one who made connections, who devoured information like it was the last sustenance on earth, who balanced them when they got too carried away with an unlikely idea. She kept them on track.

And that's what she was still trying to do. She wasn't stupid. She could feel the tensions slowly rising between Harry and Ron. She knew that every day they found nothing, those tensions rose a little more. She didn't like to think of where they'd be without her right now.

But it was slowly getting harder, and harder to bear all of this weight.

She was almost solely responsible for finding them food, for making sure the wards were put up, for finding a good place to camp, for going into small nearby towns or villages to try and scavenge something. And if any of this failed, it also felt like it was on her.

She sighed and ran her hands through her thick curls, as she did. This is why she hated the locket. She always seemed to end up at the same place when she wore it.

Feeling like a failure.

Like she wasn't doing enough.

Like she was lost.

She stood then, shaking out her hands. She needed to do something. Sitting here wasn't helpful. All it was doing was making her spiral, and she couldn't afford to do that.

She walked around the small circle they had made for themselves, checking and re-checking the enchantments for something to do. She always kept her ears strained for the sounds of anything other than the natural environment around them, but the only sound she heard was the swaying of the branches in the soft wind and the leaves crunching beneath her solitary steps as she checked their little safe haven for the night.

When she couldn't reasonably continue her circular journey around their campsite, she slipped inside to grab her copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard to go through for what felt like the hundredth time already. The tent inside was quiet, dark but for the dying candlelight on the small table. Harry and Ron were both completely asleep, the latter snoring softly, as she crept over to her bag and gingerly pulled out her book. Though she hated the nights she had to wear the necklace, she had overall come to enjoy the nights when she was on watch. There was something about being able to just sit in silent contentment in the darkness, as if for the night the entire world was gone. There were no horcruxes to find, no tempers to manage, no one trying to kill them.

At night, the weight of the world wasn't on her shoulders. She wasn't Hermione Granger, fugitive on the run.

She was just a girl.

She settled in once again against the cool canvas, even chillier now since she had left the spot and allowed the wind to kiss it.

Lumos, she thought as the tip of her wand ignited, allowing her to see the worn pages of the book Dumbledore had left her. Since they had begun learning nonverbal spells the previous year at Hogwarts, she had gotten quite good at them. She continued to practice every chance she got, however, as more complex magic could still be mildly difficult to manage wordlessly. Though the progress she'd made in the past year was much more than that of any of her peers, with perhaps the exception of Malfoy who had always been just a step behind her when they were at school together. Although, she thought wryly, not having seen almost any of them since June had meant she hadn't really seen any of their progress. It was very possible the other students in their year had gotten as good as her at nonverbal spells. War can coax many things out of people that before had seemed unlikely or even impossible.

She cast a warming charm on herself and then began to read, her eyes flying across the now familiar words as she turned page after page. She continued like this, always keeping an ear out for potential danger, until the dawn had broken, soft a grey, through the canopy above them. Her eyes finally paused, lifting from the pages as she heard the tent open beside her and Harry came to sit cross-legged next to her, shivering in the crisp morning air.

"How was your shift?" He asked, reaching out to take the locket from her as she gratefully pulled it over her head and dropped it into his waiting palm.

She let out a sigh of relief as the feeling of dread she always felt with it hanging on her lessened and faded.

"As good as could be expected with that around my neck, but nothing unexpected."

He nodded as he placed the locket around his own neck. She could almost see the difference in Harry as it settled against his own chest, like a shadow that had been cast over his face. Her heart ached for him as she watched him adjust the necklace so that it wasn't against his skin directly, but rather hanging between his black hoodie and t-shirt. She knew it was hardest for him. That his scar hurt more often when he was wearing, and he was more prone to be sucked into Voldemort's mind as well.

"Did you figure anything out about why Dumbledore left you that book, yet?"

She sighed again, a gesture that was becoming all too common for her. "No, and I'm almost wondering if I ever will." She stared at the book now resting in her lap, frustrated that it couldn't just shout the answers at her as she willed it. "Although, I can't help but feel it might have been easier if I'd known these stories as a child. Maybe then something would have jumped out at me as being different or out of place."

Harry nodded thoughtfully as she spoke, before saying what they'd said many times before. "Yes, but if that had been important, Dumbledore would have given the book to Ron. But he didn't, he gave it to you. I'm sure if anyone can figure out what it's supposed to mean, you will."

She nodded, unsure of what else to say though she didn't know if she agreed with Harry at this point. She could hear movement in the tent behind her, and a loud bang and curse that meant that Ron was up and clumsily moving around inside. She glanced at the tent entrance before responding softly, "I don't know if everyone shares your sentiment."

A dark look passed over Harry's face, and his tone was sharp as he replied, "Yeah, well. He's more than welcome to try and figure it out, isn't he?"

She didn't answer this time, her gaze once again landing on the fairytales before her. Harry seemed to understand her reluctance to respond and stood, brushing off his pants as he did so. He offered a hand out to her, which she took gratefully as she forced her frozen body to stretch and stand. Ron chose that moment to leave the tent, of course, and his eyes immediately flew to Hermione's hand still resting in Harry's. She hastily withdrew hers as his gaze continued to rest on their hands, a dark look passing over his face as his eyes flew up to meet hers. She blushed and opened her mouth to greet him, but he turned angrily right back into the tent he had just left.

She let her arm, which had been extended towards where Ron had stood moments before, fall limply to her side. She knew this wasn't really Ron. That the Ron she knew and loved had been buried beneath months of fear, worry, anger, pain, and guilt. But knowing that didn't make it sting less when he did things like this, which had been happening more and more lately. She stared at where he went back into the tent, dreading heading back in herself for Harry to take over because that meant dealing with Ron's poor attitude.

Harry, who's back had been turned, now glanced back to where Hermione was looking.

"Where's Ron? Didn't he just come out?"

She nodded, choosing her words carefully. She did that a lot now, constantly trying to avoid giving either of them any opportunity to say something negative or unhelpful.

"He did, he went back inside. He- I, just think he's in a bad mood."

It was Harry's turn to sigh and she pretended not to hear him mumble, "Aren't we all," as she headed back towards the tent entrance to follow after Ron.

The inside of the tent was brighter now, lit by the natural sunlight filtering through the canvas into the quiet living space they had been inhabiting. But the sunlight was dimmed by the atmosphere. The tension was thick in the air, and she could practically feel Ron's annoyance and jealousy as it permeated the space around him.

She glanced around, looking for him, until her eyes landed on where he was sat on the bottom bunk, glaring at the floor. His splinched arm was almost healed, but for the moment it was still in a sling she had fashioned for him out of their clothes. He glanced up at her as her soft footsteps carried her to him, watching her until she stopped in front of him.

"What you saw didn't mean anything, Harry was just helping me to stand."

He looked away from her then, grunting.

"Really, I was frozen stiff from sitting out there all night. It didn't mean anything, Ron."

He simply grunted again in response, still refusing to look at her. She crossed her arms over her chest, as her annoyance won out over her self-control.

"Now, really Ron. He's your best friend and mine too and he was helping me up. You're being ridiculous."

He glanced back at her then, his angry eyes meeting her own. He opened his mouth to speak, but then it was as though the fight simply left him. He slouched, the anger fading as he sighed and said. "I know, you're right."

She nodded once, with a satisfied "hmph" before sitting down next to him on the bed.

"I'm just… tired of this all. I never thought it would be like this. I thought Dumbledore would've told him something more, y'know?"

She glanced down at her hands, now folded softly in her lap, once again picking her words carefully. "Yes, it does seem… odd that Harry didn't know more. But you know he had probably planned to tell him more, Ron. Give him more information. I mean, I don't think he was planning to… to die."

She ended softly, swallowing as her chest tightened at the reminder of how completely wrong everything was at the moment. Secretly, she also believed that it had been irresponsible of Dumbledore to have left nothing more to the three of them, or at the very least to Harry. Of course, this thought was always accompanied by guilt, guilt that after all he had done for them she was still frustrated he hadn't been able to give more.

"He died for us. For everything. For this. If we have to muddle through a few difficult weeks, then so be it," Hermione followed up, her voice stronger and more matter-of-fact this time.

Ron scoffed, shaking his head as he said, "A few difficult weeks? We may have only left Grimmauld place a few weeks ago, but we've been searching for four months, Hermione. And we have one bloody horcrux and no idea how we're going to destroy it."

"I know." She said softly, unsure of what else to say.

"I thought Harry would know more," Ron responded, seemingly not ready to finish the conversation.

"That's not fair, Ron. You know he's doing his best. We all are."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't change the fact that we thought we had a lot more to go on when we left. Don't try to deny it, I know you thought so too."

"I- well- yes," she admitted, but continued when she saw the look on Ron's face, "But, that doesn't also mean that I don't think Harry's doing his best. He was honest with us, Ron. It's our fault that we made assumptions and expected more, not Harry's."

Ron opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment, Harry walked in. The two of them fell silent as they both glanced at him at the same time. She blushed slightly, knowing it was likely obvious that he had been the subject of their conversation.

He pretended not to notice, though she could see the expression on his face tighten as he worked to likely control the guilt he was feeling at not doing enough for them. None of them were harder on Harry than Harry was. And though he could be reckless, he was not stupid. She knew he would put two and two together and guess at what they had been talking about. And he probably felt as though he was letting them down.

He picked up a book he had left on the table the previous night, that he had been hoping to find something in to help them destroy horcruxes with and said, flatly, "Just grabbing this book. I'll get out of your way."

He moved quickly back outside and she stared after where he had left, feeling heavy with guilt and shame. She looked at Ron and could see the same emotions reflected in his own expression.

She groaned and collapsed back on the bed, out of frustration. Exhaustion unexpectedly hit her like a brick as she sank into the soft mattress. It was barely an hour past dawn and she had already seemed to find a way to piss off both boys this morning.

"You should get some sleep," Ron said, surprisingly gently considering how sharp his tone had been just minutes ago. Hermione nodded, but didn't move, her exhaustion seemingly pinning her to the spot. Ron stood, giving her the bed as he went to talk to Harry or try to find something useful to do. Anything to allow her to catch up on the sleep she missed while keeping watch the previous night. She forced herself to swing her legs fully onto the bed, and pulled the warm quilt over her as she settled in to try and get at least a few hours of sleep before they had to move the camp.

Despite her weariness, her brain seemed unwilling to shut off. She replayed all of the events of the previous hour in her mind, searching for a way that she could have better kept the peace. Any way she could have ensured a peaceful, pleasant morning as opposed to the one that unfolded. She did this often, trying to find ways to keep as much peace as possible when all three of them were so constantly on the edge.

Sometimes, picking everything apart to death could be useful. She'd found small things here and there that overall improved their time together, habits that could be avoided or small things that she could fix to prevent larger frustrations later. Of course, there wasn't always something she could fix, or change.

This morning was likely one of those times.

She could feel the annoyance creeping back up like a spider as she thought of Ron's reaction to her hand in Harry's. She still didn't know why she explained it to him. She didn't owe him anything. They weren't together.

She honestly wasn't even sure how she felt about him anymore.

For years, she'd thought she had feelings for him. And the previous year, seeing him with Lavender had hurt. But there were times when she questioned if it was really her own emotions that she felt for him. Everyone expected them to be together. As if it was meant to be and was their only option.

But did she like him because she liked him? Or because she felt that she was supposed to? It was difficult, figuring that out. And she felt bad about it, often. She didn't want to lead him on. Didn't want to give him false hope where there was none. She knew very clearly how he felt about her, though he had never explicitly said it. The jealousy in his eyes whenever she touched another man was confirmation enough.

But she didn't want to ruin their friendship either.

Whatever their future held together, she knew she wanted him in it. Even if it was just as one of her best friends. She did love him, she just didn't know if it was romantically.

She cracked her eyes open and glanced at the watch she wore. Eight o' clock. She let out a soft sigh and snuggled down into the blanket and bed, trying to shove aside the useless thoughts that would continue to chase each other in circles around her mind if she didn't actively stop them. She needed sleep if she was going to be at all useful for the rest of the day.

She imagined she was back home, in her queen bed, in her room. Her parents were downstairs laughing together. And as she finally drifted off, she could have sworn she almost heard the comforting bass of her father's full laugh.