Author's Notes: I took some liberties with the interior of the tent. Also, figure that most of the rest of the stuff that Ron shouted at Harry during the book he also shouts at Heather, but I skipped it so as not to copy too directly from the book.

Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling, and not to me. I'm just borrowing him.

Chapter Eight

They wouldn't be able to go back to Grimmauld Place, Hermione explained to Heather as they sat in the tent that afternoon, Ron still unconscious from splinching himself during their hurried escape. Yaxley had grabbed hold of her and had followed along until he was inside the Fidelius Charm, thereby giving him the secret. It was a serious blow. As creepy as the old house had been, it had started to feel like the closest thing they had to safety, like a home.

They were camping in the woods where the Quidditch World Cup had been held, in the same tent that the boys had used for that night. Hermione had borrowed it from Mr. Weasley before they had fled the Burrow. It still smelled like cats, wistfully reminding Heather of Mrs. Figg's house growing up.

As they talked, Hermione filled Heather in on what had happened to them when they had been separated. She had gone on to Umbridge's office and entered under the cloak. When it was clear the locket wasn't there, she had set off to find Ron. By luck, they had met in a lift, with him dripping cold water everywhere. Deciding it was best to leave now and return another day, they had set off for the courtrooms which was where they met up with Heather.

The robes Heather had been wearing that morning had been returned to the beaded bag and she had changed into a jumper and jeans. On each side of the tent were bunks which could be hidden behind movable curtains, much like those in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing. Heather and Hermione had stashed their bags on one side, laying Ron in a bunk on the other side. Though there wasn't going to be much privacy between the three of them living like this, both girls still preferred to be able to change unseen by the boy in their midst. Within days each side of the tent was called the Girl's or Boy's dormitories, respectively. In a way it reminded Heather of her old haven in the Room of Requirement.

Ron woke several hours later. His color had improved slightly, but he was still very weak. Both Heather and Hermione set to work finding what they could for dinner, no food had been brought along as they had all assumed they were returning to Grimmauld Place. In the end it was a very unsatisfying dinner of rubbery mushrooms that Heather only finished so as not to upset Hermione.

After dinner, each of them in turn tried to open the locket, but to no avail. Disgruntled, Heather settled the ice-cold chain around her neck, a sense of foreboding descending in her as the locket rested on her chest. There was no way she was going to leave it just lying around where they could lose it. Heather took the first watch even though her eyes were heavy with lack of sleep the night before. As she sat there, she suddenly found herself standing over an old man, Gregorovitch. Voldemort had found him. Through her connection with him, she watched Gregorovitch running down a corridor and bursting into a room, just as a blonde-haired boy grinned, shot a spell, and jumped from the window.

The next day they moved camp twice, both times erasing any sign of their presence before apparating away. At their first stop Heather had attempted to visit a nearby muggle town to buy food, but had been chased away be Dementors. When she had tried to conjure her patronus, the doe wouldn't appear. Returning to the tent empty handed did little to improve anyone's mood. It wasn't until Hermione realized that it must be Heather's continued wearing of the locket that had prevented her from casting the spell, and had taken it upon herself to take a turn wearing it, that Heather felt better. They spent that night in a lonely field, having absconded with food from a nearby farmhouse, surreptitiously leaving money behind to cover the unknown farmer's loss.

Days of seemingly aimless wandering slowly turned into weeks, each day marked by the presence or lack of food. On the days where there was plenty, bought from muggle shops or stolen from farms, spirits were high and they remained hopeful of their mission. When there was little or none however, there were surly looks and muttered comments, predominately from Ron. Heather had been used to going without food thanks to her upbringing with the Dursley's and Hermione handled it rather well. Ron on the other hand became downright unpleasant anytime he was hungry. Heather noticed that though he complained the loudest about it, he also did the least to actually help find anything else. This attitude became worse anytime it was Ron's turn to wear the horcrux. Both Hermione and Heather shared the tasks of cooking whatever food they could find, something Ron pointedly made no effort to help with.

Round and round they debated where the remainder of the Horcruxes were, with Heather and Hermione endlessly repeating the same list of locations. Heather tried several times to insist that Voldemort might have hidden one at Hogwarts, but neither Ron or Hermione seemed to think this likely. She didn't say it out loud, but Heather felt much as she had last year when she had been confident that Draco Malfoy had become a Death Eater, which neither of her friends wanted to believe, only to be proven right in the end.

The weather was a steady repetition of cold and foggy, even down in the south of the country. September gave way to October and rain began to fall almost daily. Heather had begun to suspect that both of her friends were having conversations about her behind her back, often stopping talking just as she came within earshot. As they were dating, not that either would admit to it even now, She was willing to accept that in many ways she was now on the outside of whatever they might or might not have together. Somehow though, she got the idea that she was what they were discussing in secret, probably even regretting coming along with her.

As discovering them like this became a more frequent event, anger began to grow inside her stomach at her friends, herself, even Dumbledore. During all their lessons last year he hadn't given her any real idea what to do to track down the remaining horcruxes. He had sent her off into the wilderness with hardly any real information, somehow expecting her to figure it out. In better moods, she remembered how years before she had suspected Dumbledore had intentionally let her work out the truth of the Philosopher's stone. The fact that even at the young age of eleven the three of them had been able to save the stone gave her some small hope, but not much. This seemed so much bigger.

All of these feelings came to a head one evening in early October. They were on a riverbank, eating fish that Hermione had summoned and Heather had cooked. It was a better dinner than they had eaten in a while, but that still wasn't saying much. Ron was wearing the horcrux and sulking. His constant refrain anytime he wasn't happy with what he was eating was that his mother could make good food appear out of thin air. The way he had emphasized the word "good" made Hermione's face go red.

"Right, well then tomorrow you can go and find something to eat, and Heather and I can just sit around pulling faces. I notice that we always get stuck figuring out the food, because we're girls I take it." She spat at him.

"No, because you are supposed to be the best at magic. And Heather's the one that's dragged us along on this…" he cut off as though he hadn't meant to say this second sentence out loud. Heather's spirits, which weren't all that high to begin with right now, plummeted. In those few words all her fears had been confirmed. She was too downcast to even be upset.

"Right," Hermione bit out, "That's it Ronald Weasley. I'm done taking care of such a whiny, pathetic-"

"Shh!" said Heather suddenly, her ears picking up the sound of footsteps getting closer.

"You're taking his side? After what he just said to-" Hermione turned on Heather but she leapt up and covered Hermione's mouth with her hand. Hermione's face went from outraged fury to white with fear as she too heard the sounds.

Out on the bank, the sound of half a dozen or so footsteps could be heard, cracking twigs and crunching on small stones. All three of them drew their wands, wondering if their defenses were about to be tested for the first time.

They weren't Death Eaters, that much became clear at the sound of their voices. All three of them recognized the voice of Dean Thomas, their fellow Gryffindor, and Heather identified one of the older men as Ted Tonks, whom she had met after fleeing Privet Drive. It appeared Dean and Ted were travelling with someone named Dirk and two goblins. The group settled around a fire, whose flames cast long shadows on the invisible tent, and talked. It was as though fate had brought this group within earshot of the trio. Together, Ted, Dirk, and Griphook weaved a story of Ginny, Neville, and Luna trying to steal the sword of Gryffindor from Snape's office, and Snape sending it off to Gringotts for safekeeping when they failed. According to Griphook however, that sword was a fake.

When the group had finished their meal and moved off, Heather, Hermione, and Ron knelt in the entrance of the tent without moving. The implications of what they had just heard pounded in their heads, and none of them realized how long time passed before Hermione moved first. She sprinted to her bunk and snatched up the beaded bag, extracting from within it the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. Unseen by Heather or Hermione, Ron skulked over to the boy's dormitory and laid down on his bunk, his foul mood returning.

It took almost ten minutes of polite coaxing to get the Phineas to appear in his portrait, his snide voice sending the hairs on Heather's neck on edge. Before he could get even a brief look into the tent, Hermione obscured his view with a painted blindfold. No sense letting Snape get direct intelligence of what Heather looked like these days. From him they learned that Snape had sentenced Ginny, Neville, and Luna to some work in the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid, to the relief of Hermione and Heather. After this, Hermione asked some pointed questions about the Sword of Gryffindor, and Phineas revealed that Dumbledore had used the sword to crack open a ring.

After he had gone, Heather and Hermione exploded with excitement. If Dumbledore had used it to destroy the ring, then all they had to do was find it. This, coupled with Snape being unaware that the one he had sent off was a fake, made Heather sure that Dumbledore had never really trusted Snape. If he had, then he would have told him. All they had to do now was figure out where Dumbledore had hidden it.

"Ron?" asked Heather, looking around to get his opinion on likely hiding places. She only just realized that he hadn't said anything in a long while.

A loud grunt emanated from his bunk, and Heather pulled back the curtain that blocked him from view.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing. What could possibly be wrong?" Ron answered sarcastically, staring up at the stained canvas above him.

Heather shared a look with Hermione who looked crestfallen. The excitement of moments before had died like a candle snuffed out in a stiff breeze.

"You want to tell me what's going on?"

"You two just seem so excited that we've got yet another effing thing we have to track down." Ron said, swinging himself off his bunk and landing in front of Heather.

"So? That's what you signed up for." Said Heather evenly.

"Right. Too bad you have absolutely no idea what you're doing" growled Ron. Hermione gasped and said "Ron" quietly but he ignored her.

Heather squared her shoulders and stared Ron down. She hadn't realized until just now how much taller than her Ron was. In his anger he appeared menacing, but Heather wasn't going to back down. She could see the chain of the locket around his neck and even as a part of her brain told her that he wasn't in his right mind, she found that she didn't really care all that much.

"I've told you everything Dumbledore told me. Sorry if this isn't living up to your expectations. Did you think defeating the most powerful dark wizard in history was going to take a couple of weeks? That you'd be back with your mummy by Christmas, eating fifth helpings of everything again?"

"Like you care about that. Like you give a damn about my family." spat Ron.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" asked Heather incredulously.

Ron gestured at Heather, "You're getting to dress like a girl, getting to laugh it up with Hermione, not giving a damn about my family or anyone else. Ginny gets sent off into the forest and all you can say is that she's faced worse. For all you know my family has been taken in by now. Guess it's nice that both of your parent's are safe-"

Heather slapped him so hard her hand stung. "Is that what you think? My parents are dead!"

"And mine could end up the same!" shouted Ron, unphazed by the pink mark growing on his cheek.

"Well, you can go, run back to mummy-"

Ron's hand flew toward his pocket just as Heather's did.

"Protego!" cried Hermione, aiming her wand between the two of them. An invisible barrier sprang into life, cutting the two former friends off from each other. Ron glared down at Heather, threw the horcrux onto his bunk, scooped up his rucksack, and stormed from the tent. Hermione tried to follow, impeded by her own shield charm. By the time she got it down and ran after him, he was gone. That night Heather moved her gear to the other side of the tent, doing her best to give her crying friend privacy.