Chapter Nine: To Fear The Unknown

(Author's Note: I don't normally like putting these at the start of the story, but here is a warning for some vague spoilers for the Harry Potter mobile game, Hogwarts: A Mystery. You don't have to be familiar at all with the game, but I do use some of those characters in this chapter.)

Hermione woke the next morning in a lazy daze, her mind easing its way out of the peaceful darkness of slumber. Her neck ached slightly, and she shifted her shoulders as she blinked her bleary eyes. For once, nothing caused her senses to panic and the world she was waking into didn't feel dangerous. For a moment, she thought she might nestle into the cushions and go back to sleep.

The cushions… the sofa cushions… the sofa downstairs in the living room…

Hermione sat up, glancing around the gently lit living room. Was it morning? How did that happen? Ron snored beside her, his head back against the sofa and mouth agape. Her book sat on the coffee table next to his feet. She barely remembered reading more than a page before she must have fallen asleep. She hadn't meant to.

Trying not to wake Ron, Hermione slowly slid her legs out from underneath his arms. She shivered slightly as she pulled away, the room colder without his warmth. It seemed she would have managed to sneak away until she stood. Almost immediately, Ron startled awake, his head snapping to look at her before he hissed in pain and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry," Hermione said in a whisper, maybe hoping he'd just go back to sleep if she stayed quiet enough.

Ron shrugged but grimaced again. "S'alright," he grumbled before glancing up at her again, a twinge of pink colouring his cheeks. "We must have fallen asleep last night."

"Yes, sorry." She didn't know what else to say.

"Don't be sorry." He gave her a small but cheeky grin. "Did you sleep okay?"

She nodded and bit her lip to keep it from trembling. This moment meant something completely different to him, and it shouldn't have felt like this for her. They'd accidentally woken up on the sofa together. This should have been a time for shyness and slight embarrassment but mostly intimacy and caring and understanding. So why did Hermione feel on the verge of tears?

Before Ron could say anything more, Hermione grabbed her book from the table and made some excuse about needing to get ready for the day. He raised an eyebrow at her, but she didn't wait to be questioned. She paced herself leaving the living room but ran as soon as she hit the stairs. Her chest tightened more and more until she finally reached her room and shut the door.

She threw the book to the ground and covered her mouth with her arm, using the fabric of her dressing robe to muffle her strangled cries. Her legs buckled, and her body slid down to the floor. This ache felt worse than the nightmares. It had been growing inside her for days and hurt in ways she hadn't felt since last winter.

She missed him. Ron was right there, and already she was missing him.

This was why she wanted, no, needed to figure this out on her own. She'd become too reliant on him since their stay at Shell Cottage. Yes, she'd needed him then, but things had to change. In a few months, she'd be going to Hogwarts… and he would not. And in those few months, she needed to sort herself out.

Of course it would be easier to have him sleep beside her every night until September, but what then? It wouldn't solve anything. And this needed to be solved before the school year started, sooner if she wanted any time to revise her sixth-year material.

Hermione gasped for air, her breathing shaky but slowly steadying. Whatever progress she'd made might have been undone last night, but she wouldn't give up. She just had to be smarter, more methodical. There were plenty of things she could try, she only had to think of them. There had to be a book out there somewhere that would give her the answer right?

As she wiped her face and dressed for the day, only realizing it was five in the morning after readying herself, Hermione found an old notebook in her bag and began scribbling down more notes than she'd taken since leaving school. She leaned over Percy's old desk, the movements of the quill familiar and comforting as she committed all her mental notes to paper. From the first night in the Burrow to waking this morning, she recounted every night's sleep, the severity of the nightmares, what she'd done that day, and any method she'd tried to get to bed.

It was half-past seven by the time she finished, and the rest of the Burrow started to stir. The wafts of breakfast drifted into the room, and footsteps padded past her door. She stretched out her fingers, noticing the black ink smudged on her fingertips and palm. Maybe washing up was a better idea than trying to decipher meaning out of her notes for now.

Perhaps it was the adequate amount of sleep or the excitement of finally being able to work through her emotions in the most logical way possible, but Hermione felt more energized and in control of herself that she had in months. She ate a decent portion of breakfast with Ginny and her parents before Harry and Ron came downstairs. Mr Weaslet was off to the Ministry while the rest of them travelled to Hogwarts for the day again. Even though they'd only missed a day, so much progress had already been made. With the massive amount of helping hands, Professor McGonagall confided in them she thought they might finish by the end of the week.

Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny went to the Greenhouses with Neville to avoid the crowds, then ate a private lunch with Hagrid, who introduced them to Rolf Scamander, a magizoologist helping Hagrid tackle the Forbidden Forest and the creatures who'd been getting a little too close to the castle for anyone's liking. Though not as straightforward and mindless as putting the castle back together, Hermione found Scamander's charms to deter but not harm the creatures fascinating.

All of this made avoiding being alone with or too close to Ron far too easy. By the time they left in the evening, avoiding supper in the crowded Great Hall for Harry's sake, Hermione had forgotten she'd been trying to distance herself from him. She smiled when he took her hand as they walked up to the Burrow.

To everyone's surprise, Mrs Weasley immediately headed for the kitchen, announcing that they all deserved a good meal, and when Harry remarked that he'd been planning to see Andromeda and Teddy, Mrs Weasley insisted he bring them both back for dinner. Ron and Ginny exchanged a glance of confused relief, but none of them dared voice how strange this change in Mrs Weasley was. Perhaps, Hermione thought, time really did heal all wounds.

Unfortunately, as Harry and Ginny left and Mrs Weasley disappeared into the kitchen, Hermione found herself completely alone with Ron for the first time since waking up that day. Perhaps if she'd realized before they sunk into the sofa with exhausted sighs, she could have found some way to excuse herself, but now she was stuck sitting beside him, the room silent except for the clanging of pots coming from the kitchen. Ron lazily stretched his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned in to rest her head on his shoulder. Just as she thought maybe she had lucked out and they would get through this time without speaking about last night or this morning, the melodies of Celestina Warbeck drifted out from the kitchen. Apparently, that was the cue Ron had been waiting for.

"Hermione... About last night…"

Her shoulders scrunched up to ears, and she glanced up at Ron hesitantly. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry if… well, if I was supposed to, y'know, wake you up. I… I didn't know…"

"Ron, what are you on about?" Hermione finally asked, putting him out of his misery. "You don't have to apologize for us falling asleep on the sofa together. It's fine."

Ron stiffened, the tips of his ears going red. "Well, you didn't seem fine this morning," he grumbled.

Hermione sighed. Whatever happened to the stereotype that boys didn't want to talk about their feelings? Honestly, she could use a break from it herself, at least until she'd properly sorted through her own emotions herself. How was she supposed to explain to him that he was the one thing that consistently eased her nightmares as well as being the one thing she couldn't rely on? How could she explain that she felt her progress set back by weeks because of him? That if he just agreed to go back to Hogwarts with her, she'd welcome him into her bed every night to finally get some proper rest.

No, that wasn't fair. Besides, together or not, Hermione needed to find some solution on her own. She couldn't rely on Ron forever.

"I was just...," Hermione started, figuring out the lie as she went along, "...just worried that… your parents would find us…"

It was weak at best, but the idea of his mum and dad coming downstairs to find him alone with Hermione seemed to frighten Ron enough to believe her. With a flushed face, he merely nodded in agreement. Then, before Hermione could even think the conversation ended, he asked, "But you did sleep alright, right?"

He'd asked her the same thing that morning. Hermione couldn't remember a time she'd talked so much about her quality for sleep. "Yes, fine."

Ron nodded as if her curt answer had confirmed everything. "You know, if you think it might help, I could sleep on the floor again, like I did at Shell Cottage."

Hermione shook her head before he'd even finished his sentence. "No, you don't have to do that." He opened his mouth to argue, but she continued on before he could interrupt. "I can figure this out. You don't have to worry about it."

"Of course I don't have to," he said. "Doesn't mean that I won't."

Hermione pressed her lips together, unable to fend off her annoyance. There was a time any hint of Ron caring about her, even when overprotective and irrational, brought her so much satisfaction, adding evidence to her theory that he fancied her. Now, she wished he cared just a little bit less. She was sick of talking about her sleeping patterns and all the ways she'd failed to get rid of the nightmares. She was tempted to pick a fight with him right then. Maybe if she really peeved him off, she'd get a reprieve from his obsession over her wellbeing.

As he looked down at her, waiting for her reply, another idea formed. She shouldn't. It was terribly manipulative and self-serving. Then again, the longer she stared at his open, honest, expectant face, the more persistent the thought became.

Pushing herself up, Hermione pressed her lips to his, perhaps with a bit more force than she meant. Ron's eyes widened in surprise, his mouth agape as she settled back down. Her cheeks burned and heart sped up, only now thinking maybe that hadn't been the best idea. "Sorry, I…"

But before she could scrounge up the words, Ron grinned and caught her face in his hand. "You don't have to apologize for that. Ever," he added with a chuckle. Then he bent his mouth down to hers, and all the tension left her body. Snogging really was a beautiful distraction. Forget anything she'd thought about before about wishing he cared less about her because kisses wouldn't be like this otherwise. The caresses wouldn't be as gentle or his grip so firm. It was so easy to get lost.

The knob of the front door clicked as it turned, and Hermione and Ron both jumped. Ron's head whipped around to face the door while Hermione pushed herself a good six inches away from him. She wiped her mouth as if that would hide everything.

"Evening, Ron, Hermione," Mr Weasly greeted as he hung up his coat. Hermione couldn't bring herself to even look at him.

"Hi, Dad," Ron said, obviously attempting to be casual but coming in about half an octave too high.

Mr Weasley gave them a curious glance but was quickly distracted by the sounds coming from the kitchen. "Is your mother cooking, Ron?" His attempts at nonchalance failed as miserably as his son's.

Ron sobered up in an instant. "Yeah… she invited Andromeda and Teddy for supper too. Harry and Ginny left to get them."

"Huh. Best see if she needs any help, then." With a curt nod, he headed into the kitchen, his gait a restrained skip.

Ron sighed with relief and sunk into the sofa cushions as soon as his father left. Hermione still hadn't removed her hand from her face. They glanced at each other, then burst out laughing. Being caught snogging felt so juvenile, and that felt great, like going back in time to when their problems had been so minuscule. It was like a glimpse of the seventh year they never had.

As their giggles subsided, Ron said, "I guess I'll go help set the table." His grin was still wide and contagious as he kissed her quickly on the cheek then hopped up from the sofa. She couldn't stop her own smile, even after he'd left the room. For the first time, Hermione felt a shimmer of hope that normal was possible.

Not long after Mr Weasley, Harry and Ginny returned with Andromeda and Teddy. Out of her antique sitting room and black mourning clothes, Andromeda looked much less like her horrible sister. In fact, the way she turned up her nose after Teddy soiled his diaper almost as soon as they'd walked through the door, Hermione saw a flash of Narcissa Malfoy. And when she laughed, it felt as if Tonks had entered the room. Perhaps she wasn't so awful after all.

Then, of course, she had to go and mention Kreacher and how delightfully surprised she was to find the extra hand around the house so helpful. Ron knocked his knee into Hermione's hard underneath the table before she could make any comments, and Harry changed the subject swiftly.

Dinner lasted for several content hours. None of them could get enough of Mrs Weasley's masterful roast. It put all of their feeble attempts at cooking to shame. And it seemed Mrs Weasley had missed being in the kitchen. More puddings appeared every time anyone set down their fork, and each time Hermione felt she couldn't possibly eat another bite, the conversation would keep her glued to her seat until the delicious scents convinced her to take just one more bite.

As the sun set and everyone around the table finally stopped picking at their food, Teddy started to stir and fuss in Harry's arms. Panic paled his features, but Andromeda swooped in quickly to help settle the baby. "I'll take that to mean it's time to head home," she said, thanking Mrs Weasley again for the invitation as Harry said his goodbyes to Teddy. Ron stood from his chair to do the same, holding the baby's two tiny hands between his large one.

Ginny glanced between the two boys doting over Teddy and muttered to Hermione, "Aren't we supposed to be the ones fawning over a baby?"

"Hard to do when those two refuse to share." Hermione found it amusing that, while they ate, Teddy had been passed around in his bundle of blankets like a prized trophy they all wanted to touch. It was no surprise Mrs Weasley and Harry volunteered to take him next at every turn, but Ron's eagerness had caught her off guard. She'd noticed he'd developed a soft spot for the blue-haired baby the moment they'd met him, but watching him hold and rock Teddy put him in a completely new light for Hermione. How was it he was such a natural while Teddy fussed the entire time Hermione held him? She'd never done much reading on caring for a baby. Maybe it was time she did.

"You will have to come by for tea sometime, Molly," Andromeda said as she gathered her bag. "The company of someone other than a baby or a house-elf would very much be appreciated. Now, Harry, I do require my grandson before leaving."

With a reluctant chuckle, Harry handed over Teddy and hugged Andromeda farewell. Ginny followed suit. Hermione wasn't sure when they'd all become so close. Maybe it was all those visits she refused to partake in. Even though Ron had missed them as well, she still patted his shoulder while only giving Hermione a quick wave. She crossed her arms after returning it, feeling very much left out.

Once Andromeda and Teddy left, Ron and Ginny insisted on cleaning up to let their parents go to bed. Of course, Hermione and Harry stayed to help too, finishing the dishes in a heartbeat before they called it a night as well. They'd be meeting Bill at Grimmauld Place tomorrow morning, after all.

At her door, after leaving Ginny at her room and lagging behind Harry as he retreated to his, Ron paused and waited for Harry's footsteps to disappear before saying, "I can sneak back down if you want. I can change and grab a blanket and be back down in ten minutes–"

"Ron," Hermione hissed, putting a hand to his chest to interrupt him and looking back up the stairs. She dearly hoped Harry was out of earshot. "I told you, you don't have to–"

"I know but…" He took her by the waist and sighed heavily. "It's the only thing I can do."

He really knew how to break her heart. It was almost enough to make her give in and tell him he could sleep on her floor every night. Almost. "You can kiss me goodnight," she suggested, sliding her hand up to the back of his neck. "That might help."

A second passed in which Hermione thought he might refuse, and her stomach dropped all the way down to the kitchen. Then the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He leaned in for a gentle, quick kiss but pulled away before Hermione could even think about making it more. He stared down at her with pleading eyes. If snogging wasn't even going to distract him anymore, how was Hermione supposed to face that look?

"Well, goodnight then," she finally said, taking a step out of his arms.

Ron's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Yeah… night." He trudged up the stairs, his stooped shadow disappearing slowly.

Before the regret set in, Hermione hurried into her room, pacing as she dressed for bed. She had never been faced with such an infuriating problem before. The solution stood right in front of her–now sulking in the attic–but she couldn't use it. She had to keep the longterm in mind, so there had to be another answer. She just had to find it. No matter how much she wanted to just give into the easy solution.

Despite reassuring Ron she would be fine on her own, Hermione knew her plan wouldn't create fast results. She made a quick note on her journal, citing the heavy meal and the material of her pyjamas and even the quick kiss with Ron. She had no idea what might be important later.

The light flickered out as she crawled into bed, the scolding tendrils of paranoia wrapping around her as soon as she settled her head on her pillow. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, shadows danced around the ceiling and out of the corners of her eyes. She followed them, searching for a solid shape for a while before she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. There was nothing there that her mind wasn't making up. She needed to stop looking for danger or she'd never get to sleep.

She jumped as the wind shuddered the glass in the bedroom window, sitting up straight and staring at the wispy curtains. They fluttered ever so slightly, like they were trying not to move. Like something trying to sneak up on her.

No, that was stupid. What was she thinking? The curtains looked the same as they did all the other times she'd thought they were hiding something, or someone. Nothing had happened to her yet.

Hermione forced her body to turn and settle back down. Her breaths hitched as she clutched the blanket around herself, willing sleep to come. If she laid there with her eyes closed long enough, it would, like it did every night. But it never came over her as deeply as she needed. Only minutes after falling into a restless sleep, the nightmare started as they always did.

She was in the dark, again, and alone, again. Nothing had time to happen. Just knowing what was coming sent a jolt of fear so strong that Hermione woke, choking for air in a cold sweat. She hugged her knees to her chest as she tried to catch her breath and slow her racing heart. After a few minutes, her grip around her legs relaxed.

Alright, time to try out something new. On shaky legs, Hermione stepped out of bed and felt her way to the small wardrobe beside the door. She used the wall for guidance as she stooped down and reached for the cat basket tucked next to the wardrobe. Crookshanks gave a soft mew as Hermione picked him up and brought her to her bed.

She'd never let Crookshanks sleep in bed with her, partially because he seemed to prefer his basket when not creeping about and also because she hated the idea of waking up with cat hair in her blankets. But she would have to get over that.

Her theory was pretty basic. Having Ron in the room made her feel safe and less alone, so maybe having Crookshanks beside her would bring her the same sort of security. The big orange cat always felt a bit like a protector anyways. Maybe he could chase down her nightmares like he'd once chased after Scabbers.

It took several minutes for them to sort themselves out. Crookshanks first settled on her pillow beside her head, but Hermione couldn't stand it. That was just asking for fur in her mouth. She moved Crookshanks to her side, cradling him in the crook of her arm. They both hated that, though. He retreated across her belly to curl against her other side's hip. That seemed alright for a bit, but Hermione must have shifted once too many times for Crookshanks' liking. He stretched and grumbled, moving down to her knee and resting close enough for her to feel him there without actually touching.

Hermione found it still took her a better part of an hour to fall asleep, but as with her new usual, as soon as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, she stayed there till morning. As she woke to a bright morning sun, Hermione wasted no time grabbing her journal to write down her notes before dressing for the day. She still felt slightly drowsy as she headed downstairs.

Mrs Weasley was in the kitchen again, Ron and Harry hanging around uselessly. They'd been doing a majority of the cooking lately and seemed to still be getting used to Mrs Weasley returning to her old, motherly self. "Good morning, dear," she said as she summoned a heap of bacon from a sizzling pan to a plate in the centre of the table.

"Good morning," Hermione said, catching Ron's eye and putting on a bright smile.

"Sleep well?" Ron asked, not breaking eye contact.

"Very well." She refused to look away first, daring him to challenge her.

Harry didn't seem to notice their silent stand-off. He held up a steaming kettle and asked, "Tea, Hermione?" before pouring her a mug.

"Thanks," she said, only breaking her and Ron's stare to take the cup.

Mrs Weasley set down a large plate of fried eggs and glanced at her watch. "Ron, go and fetch your sister. Bill will be here soon."

"Yeah, alright," Ron grumbled, passing Hermione as he walked up the stairs. She would have shivered if not for the hot mug in her hands. The last few days, since their first trip to Hogwarts and their post-boggart snog, she had felt the heat of Ron's gaze everywhere she went. Now, she just felt cold.

"No need to be polite and wait," Mrs Weasley said as she charmed a knife to butter the heap of toast. "Grab a plate."

Hermione and Harry took their seats, Hermione not paying much attention as she slid an egg onto her plate. "These are delicious, Mrs Weasley," Harry said after taking one bite. Hermione hummed her agreement. Everyone had overly complimented dinner last night, but after having to fend for themselves, they all appreciated Mrs Weasley's expert cooking much more.

"You flatter me," Mrs Weasley said as she waved her hand to dismiss the compliment. "All of you have kept food on the table for weeks."

"Not as good as this," Harry said. "Besides, a few weeks was nothing. You've kept me well-fed for years."

"Oh, Harry." Mrs Weasley brought her hands to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. Panic whitened Harry's face, obviously thinking he'd said something wrong, but Mrs Weasley pulled him into a tight hug. Hermione gave him a reassuring smile. Good tears or bad, Mrs Weasley cried at the drop of a needle. Harry didn't need to feel guilty.

Not to leave anyone out, Mrs Weasley bustled over to Hermione to hug her as well. As Ron jogged down the stairs, Mrs Weasley turned to sweep him into a giant embrace as well. He glanced at Hermione and Harry over her shoulder. "Everything alright, Mum?"

"Everything is wonderful," she said with a happy sigh, squeezing his arms as she stepped back.

"Okay…" Ron said, still not looking convinced. "Uh, Ginny said she'd be down in a minute."

"Perfect, perfect." She floated back over to the table with a smile on her face. She made a small plate as she said, "I'll take a plate up to your father. He's running very late this morning." She disappeared up the stairs, Ron staring after her.

"Did I miss something?" he asked as he settled into a seat beside Harry.

"All I said was that breakfast tasted good," Harry said with his hands up.

"She's just a bit emotional," Hermione said from Harry's other side. "She's only just started getting back into her normal routine. She's adjusting."

"Right," Ron said, as if he hadn't been the one to ask the question. "At least she's not crying all the time anymore. Not that I minded the crying," he added.

"Who's crying?" Ginny skipped down the last step, stopping in the doorway to glance between the three of them. She quirked an eyebrow as she looked between Hermione and Ron.

"Just Mum, again," Ron said, absentmindedly stuffing an entire egg into his mouth.

"Oh." Ginny shrugged, making herself a plate and sitting next to Hermione. She continued to eye Hermione between forkfuls, which Hermione pretended not to notice.

From outside, they heard the crunch of gravel and the distinctive sound of a car door slamming. Harry's head popped up from his plate. "Are we driving to Grimmauld Place?"

"I didn't know Bill could drive," Ron said, both of them exchanging a look before hopping out of their seats and hurrying to the living room.

"Well, we can't very well Apparate there in broad daylight," Hermione started to say, but the boys were already out of earshot. She rolled her eyes and continued picking at her food.

Ginny scooted her chair closer, bumping their knees, and whispered, "Is everything okay between you and Ron?"

Hermione nearly choked on her bite of bacon. "What?" she gasped. "Why would you ask that?"

"Come on," Ginny said. "You put Harry between the two of you. That's the farthest you've been from each other since we've gotten home."

"We're fine," Hermione huffed. "You don't have to read into everything." She pushed herself away from the table and marched out of the kitchen.

"Sorry for caring, then," she heard Ginny mutter after her, but she ignored it. Things between her and Ron were fine. They weren't exactly seeing eye-to-eye at the moment, that didn't mean something was wrong.

Ron and Harry were ushering Bill inside, asking about the car parked out front. Just as Hermione had thought, and Bill was now explaining, driving made the most sense since the Burrow had disconnected with the Floo Network and they shouldn't risk Apparating directly inside the possibly booby-trapped house.

"If everyone's ready, we should leave soon," Bill said, not bothering to take off his leather jacket.

"You should at least make yourself a plate first," Ron said. "Mum's cooked enough to feed an army of giants."

"Mum cooked?" Bill asked with a mix of surprise and intrigue. "Well, alright." He shrugged off his jacket and moved quickly into the kitchen. "But just a small one. We've got another stop before Grimmauld Place."

"Are we picking something up to help us check for curses?" Harry asked, standing behind Ginny's chair as Bill took his old seat.

"Someone," Bill corrected, shovelling down food at a pace that would match Ron's.

Hermione, Harry, and Ron exchanged apprehensive looks. "Don't worry," Bill said, noticing their hesitation. "We can trust her. She's one of the best curse-breakers I know."

"Is she a co-worker for Egypt?" Ron asked.

"No, she's a magizoologist now." Bill seemed to intentionally miss their looks of confusion this time. "But we were at Hogwarts together for a time. She travels a lot and helped Charlie with Order business aboard. She should be an honorary member by now, never asking questions and just doing whatever Charlie asked. She fought in the battle too. Came in the second wave. Trust me, she's a good witch to have on your side."

Hermione gulped at the implication that this stranger was a bad witch to have against you, but she bit her tongue as Bill finished his plate, left a note that they'd gone for his parents, and led them out to an old-styled sedan that gleamed with a fresh coat of wax. Harry and Ginny climbed into the back, Hermione following as she watched Ron get into the passenger seat. She was glad Harry was between her and Ginny, who kept shooting meaningful looks between Hermione and Ron.

The car zoomed down the dirt road, much smoother than it should have. The fields and trees blurred outside the window, and what should have been an over three-hour drive turned into less than thirty minutes as the scenery changed from greenery to crowded buildings.

"I thought it was illegal to enchant muggle artefacts," Hermione said as they paused at a traffic light.

"Cars tend to be the exception as long as no Muggles notice it acting strange," Bill said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror.

Hermione hummed her disapproval but didn't have time to pick up the argument before the car drove up to the sidewalk outside of the Leaky Cauldron. Bill pulled the car into park before stepping out and waving down a figure leaning against the wall of the pub. The witch was dressed in all black, from her loose-fitting shirt to her worn boots, except for a round, silvery-blue pendant necklace that hung down to her stomach. She flicked her long blonde hair off her shoulder as she pushed away from the wall. She maintained a composed poker face before reaching Bill and smiling widely. "You're late," she teased before hugging him.

"I don't remember giving you an exact time," Bill countered, clapping the witch on the shoulder. "Thanks for doing this."

"I felt I probably still owed you one," she said.

"You never owed me anything." Bill ducked his head down into the door, addressing the group. "Everyone, this is Pippa… Pippa Lee, now, isn't it?"

The witch, Pippa, rolled her eyes. "You were at the wedding," she said as she lowered her face next to Bill's. "Hello, everyone. Nice to meet you all." She smiled and pointed at each of them in turn. "Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry, of course, right?"

They all nodded and waved awkwardly from their seats. Hermione hadn't felt this much like a child in years.

"Best not waste the day," Bill said, motioning Pippa inside. She slid down the bench seat to sit next to Ron, who's ears went a bit red as they bumped shoulders. Hermione huffed in her seat, determinedly staring out the window as they followed every single traffic law across London. For heaven's sake, could they get there any faster? And could Ron not get all flustered around the first new pretty face he'd seen since Bill's wedding? This woman was several years their senior and already married! She shook with the effort not to slap him across the back of the head.

"So what are you and Barnaby still doing in England?" Bill asked Pippa.

"Originally, we were only staying until it was legal to leave again," she explained. "Then, of course, we got the letter from Professor McGonagall about rebuilding Hogwarts. We had to stay. Especially after we heard the rumour that Rolf Scamander would be there."

"I think we met him yesterday," Ron piped up, glancing to the back seat for confirmation. "He was helping Hagrid, wasn't he?"

"Was he not the most amazing wizard you've ever met?" Pippa asked, her eyes wide and child-like. Ron recoiled at her sudden excitement. "He only graduated a few years after I did, but he's already done so much more that I could ever hope for myself. I suppose with a name like Scamander, magical creatures just flock to you wherever you go."

"It's also a name that easily gets Ministry funding," Bill added.

Pippa waved away the comment. "And with funding comes opportunity. What I wouldn't give to be part of his next expedition, but he's dreadfully difficult to get into contact with. We've heard he's prone to inviting along whoever happens to be nearby and interests him."

"So you've sent Barnaby to Hogwarts to get an invitation?" Bill asked.

"Exactly." Pippa smiled confidently, but Bill raised his brow with concern. "Come off it, Barnaby is plenty charming."

"To you," Bill muttered, "but are you sure the bloke can even find Hogwarts on his own?"

Pippa slapped Bill's shoulder. "Just because we can't all be top-of-our-class Headboys," she mocked.

"Says the top-of-her-class Headgirl."

Harry cleared his throat, leaning forward to interrupt the conversation. "Bill says you're an excellent curse-breaker. Is that a useful skill for magizoology?"

"Not particularly," Pippa answered, further deepening the confusion of everyone besides Bill. "But it was useful during our time at Hogwarts."

Hermione's attention was finally caught. She straightened herself in her seat and asked, "What curses were you breaking at Hogwarts?"

"The ones that guarded the Cursed Vaults." Pippa spoke nonchalantly but glanced around for a reaction. They gave none. "Did no one mention the Cursed Vaults while you were at Hogwarts?"

Harry and Ron both looked at Hermione. "I don't remember ever learning about them. Or reading about them In any of the library books," she said, scraping her memory for any mention of cursed vaults.

"Oh, I doubt we'll ever make it into a book," Pippa said. "Hogwarts did well to keep the entire thing pretty hush. But don't Hogwarts students gossip anymore? Information used to spread like wildfire while I was there. Couldn't keep anything a secret for more than an hour."

"Some secrets are worth keeping," Bill said, his eyes now glued to the road.

"Did you help?" Ron asked, both he and Ginny staring at their eldest brother like they were seeing a brand new side to him. "You never mentioned these Cursed Vaults before."

"I was only around for a few."

Pippa scoffed. "I would say three out of five counts as most."

"So what were the Cursed Vaults?" Ginny asked. "They seem a bit like the Chamber of Secrets."

"Not completely dissimilar," Pippa said, "but also not exactly the same. The vaults were dangerous and had dangerous people trying to get inside them. I spent most of my time at Hogwarts trying to find them before the wrong people did. It cost my best friend her life."

The car suddenly stopped, jolting everyone forward in their seats as Bill jerked the car into parking space. The temperature inside seemed to drop several degrees and the air thickened. "That was a long time ago," he said as he clicked off his seatbelt. "We've got enough heartache to deal with in the present. No need to bring up past pain."

Pippa, who's face had turned steely during her recounting, softened again at Bill's words. "Right. Let's go break some curses."

The group piled out of the car, their sombre mood only increasing as they approached 12 Grimmauld Place. Pippa jumped slightly as the house appeared to her for the first time, shoving aside its neighbours to squeeze itself between them. It looked the same as they'd left it months ago.

"What are we expecting in there?" Pippa asked as she stared up into the dark windows.

Bill started explaining. "The original Secret Keeper died two years ago, so everyone who knew the secret became Secondhand Secret Keepers. One of those was a Death Eater, who was on our side," Bill added quickly at Pippa's shocked face. "Anyways, he managed to keep the secret, but because of a long story I won't bore you with, another DeathEater named Yaxley was shown the house." Hermione stared at the ground, shame boiling in her belly. "We kept an eye out and only saw him enter again a few times, but who knows what he did to the place while he was here."

"How do you know he didn't bring other DeathEaters here?" Harry asked.

"He's not a Secret Keeper," Bill explained. "He couldn't have revealed it to anyone else."

Pippa put a hand on the back pocket of her black jeans, her palm on the handle of her wand. "Has this Yaxley bloke been arrested yet? Any chance he's waiting for us inside?"

Bill shook his head. "He's in Azkaban as we speak. We'll only have to deal with whatever he left behind."

With a confident nod, Pippa stepped onto the worn stairs, Bill right behind her. Neither one reached for the knocker, instead, taking out their wands and surveying the entire door before touching it. Nothing happened except a few sparks from their wands, which must have been a good sign because Bill pulled opened the door with a flick of his wand.

All six of them stared into the dark hallway, the late morning sun casting less than a foot of light into the room. Hermione reached for her wand, safely on the stairs and out of sight of any Muggles passing by. Pippa lifted her foot to step forward, but Bill stuck out an arm to stop her. He waved his wand in a complicated pattern, muttering once or twice to himself before releasing a shower of golden sparks into the hallway. They sped all the way down to the staircase before fading out of sight.

"Are you done yet?" Pippa asked, unimpressed. Before Bill could answer, she lifted her foot again, but instead of stepping inside, she leaned it against the door frame and untied her boot, not breaking eye contact with Bill as she did so. She slipped off her shoe and tossed it about a foot into the room. It landed upright with a thud.

From the ceiling descended a black smokey shape that resembled a bird if it had been drawn in ink then smudged against the page. It flew forward, knocking the group backward down the stairs as the front door slammed shut. There was a clambering of what sounded like chains from inside.

"What was that?" Ron exclaimed, sitting up beside Hermione. Thankfully, he'd managed not to land on top of her in the fall. Her back hurt enough as it was.

Bill held up a finger to quiet Ron, nodding across the street to a pair of elderly women staring at them. "Alright, dears?" one of them called over.

"Yes, we're fine. Thank you," Bill said, picking himself up and dusting off his front. The women eyed his scarred face warily, their eyes then drifting down to Pippa's missing shoe.

She jumped up, attempting to hide her stocking foot and wand hand behind Bill as she smiled at the women. "Those rickety old stairs can be a bit finicky, you know," she said with a smile that longed to be trusted.

The women seemed unconvinced of their trustworthiness but shuffled along, glancing back every few seconds and whispering to each other. Ron scrambled back to his feet and held a hand out for Hermione. Hermione gladly took it. "You okay?" he asked.

"I'm good. You?"

He lifted up his right arm, craning his neck to look at his elbow. His shirt sleeve had ripped where he'd landed, and Hermione could see a patch of red skin where the pavement had scraped against his arm. "Not as bad as getting Splinched," he said with a bemused grin.

"That's not funny," Hermione snapped, his smile instantly disappearing.

"I just meant–"

"I know what you meant, but it's not a joke."

"What are you getting in a twist about?"

"Nothing." She brushed past him back to Bill. "So what was that?" she asked in a terse whisper, glancing around for any more wandering Muggles.

"It's a very specialized entrapment curse," Bill explained, his eyes still following the pair of elderly women as they finally turned a corner. "It's meant to keep whoever trespasses trapped inside while the person who set the curse receives a signal that it's been set off. That spectral bird is probably off to find Yaxley in his jail cell."

"Still," Pippa interrupted, "it's probably best to get inside in the case that message is sent to someone else."

"Right. We'll work on getting the door back open. You four stay on the sidewalk. We don't need to risk anymore Muggles seeing us popping up out of nowhere. Try not to look suspicious," he added, glancing again in the direction where the two elderly women had gone.

Bill and Pippa stepped back up to the door, Bill complimenting her innovation while Pippa poked fun at his "fancy sparkles". Hermione turned to see Ron's reproachful glare before he sulked off to brood on the car's bonnet. Ginny gave her an annoying "told you so" look before purposefully heading in the opposite direction of Ron and leaning against the fence of 11 Grimmauld Place. Harry stood in place guarding the house, somehow managing to look even more suspicious than both of the Weasleys.

Wanting to avoid the conflict as well as to not draw attention to Harry's overly conspicuous stance, Hermione trudged over to Ginny. "I don't want to talk about it," she said quietly, cutting Ginny off before she could even start.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "What kind of a friend would I be if I let you get away with that?"

"A good one," Hermione suggested.

"The correct answer is: a sorry excuse for one." Ginny bumped Hermione's shoulder, trying to cheer her up. "So tell me, what are you two fighting about this time?"

Her words stung even though she didn't mean them too. Did Ginny think Hermione enjoyed arguing with Ron all the time? There were just some days that every little thing he did or said got under her skin. Like joking about getting Splinched in the same place where it had happened. The place she'd nearly lost him his arm because she hadn't been careful enough Disapparating. Why would he ever find that amusing?

Hermione took a breath as Ginny waited patiently for her answer. She couldn't very well say they were fighting over a joke he'd made. That's not what they were actually fighting about. What were they fighting about? That she wouldn't let him sleep on her floor last night? She wasn't about to tell Ginny about her nightmares. She already had one Weasley losing his head over them.

"We've just been disagreeing about a lot of things lately," she finally said.

"You two are always disagreeing about something."

"But it's different now."

"Because you're dating," Ginny said with an overtone of 'obviously'.

"Because we can't agree to disagree about these things," Hermione corrected.

Ginny nodded as if she understood exactly what Hermione was talking about. "So this is still about him becoming an Auror and not going back to Hogwarts."

"That's not what we're fighting about–"

"But it's what you're upset about."

Hermione didn't admit it, but she knew that, of course, yes, that was the root of the problem. Was it so incredibly selfish of her to want Ron to give up on this amazing opportunity that he'd always silently wished for just so she wouldn't have to face going back to Hogwarts without him? Of course it was. She knew that. And if he did ever decide to decline Kingley's offer and stay with her, she'd never escape the guilt... but she also wouldn't stop him.

"What are we supposed to do," Hermione asked, "if we can't agree to disagree or agree to agree? What else is there?"

"Well," Ginny said, scrunching her eyes in fake thought, "you could disagree to agree or disagree to disagree…"

Hermione blinked at her. "Ginny, that makes absolutely no sense. You can't disagree to agree, it's contradictory, and to disagree to disagree is just disagreeing."

"Exactly." Ginny grinned at her while Hermione stared in hopeless confusion waiting for an explanation. After a moment, Ginny put a hand on Hermione's knee and said in a serious voice, "Listen, Hermione. I am spewing Luna-level bullshit out of my mouth right now just waiting for you to get sick of it and go talk to Ron. So go talk to Ron."

Hermione huffed and looked away, but Ginny persisted. "Look, you're both going to just keep arguing about little things until you resolve the real issue. Just go up to him and tell him not to take the Auror training. Or don't tell him, accept his choice, and get over it." Hermione flinched at the harsh words, but Ginny squeezed her knee. "You've given me plenty of tough advice I didn't want to hear, so now it's my turn. Go fight this out. There's a big empty street here just waiting for you to stand in and yell at each other. Not to mention a car that has a backseat just asking for someone to snog in it."

Hermione couldn't hold in her chuckle, imagining Bill's reaction to Ginny's suggested scenario. "I think that would classify as 'acting suspicious'."

"Forget Bill," Ginny said with a wave of her hand, her words barely out of her mouth before a deafening snap cut her off.

Both of them jumped and whirled around to the front door. Both Bill and Pippa stood tense, teeth clench as they searched around for any nearby Muggles. At this rate, they'd be lucky not to have the police swarming the place by the end of the day.

Bill glanced down at the rest of them and said, "It's open."

"It's like he heard me," Ginny whispered in an incredulous whisper. She and Hermione locked eyes before bursting out laughing.

At Bill's strained request to hurry before any Muggles came by, Hermione and Ginny walked briskly back up the front stairs, still giggling. Harry already stood just inside the door, staring down at the tangle of dingy chains that stretched from just inside the door all the way to the staircase, Pippa's single boot wrapped up in front of them. Ron trudged in a moment later, his mood somehow more sour than before.

Pippa stood at the edge of the pool of metal links and stretched out a pointed toe to nudge them. "Don't touch them!" Bill shouted, coming in behind Ron and rushing forward a moment too late.

The chains remained motionless. He glared at Pippa as she shrugged. "I didn't want to lose another boot."

"So you're willing to lose a leg?" he asked, shaking his head as he lifted his wand and managed to vanish the chains with a single flick. Pippa's boot disappeared with them.

"You couldn't have gotten rid of them without taking my shoe with them?"

"Nope," Bill said simply, heading down the entrance without so much as a backwards glance. Pippa glared at his back but followed him, motioning the others forward. The door snapped shut, causing Hermione to jump backwards into Ron. He grasped her shoulder, holding tight as he quickly lit the end of his wand and held it in front of them both.

She glanced back at him, giving him a small smile before lighting her own wand. His hand disappeared.

Pippa aimed her wand up to the chandelier, and the hall flooded with light. She was met with an instant reprimand from Bill. "Don't touch anything! You don't know what might set off a curse."

"You don't know if it's going to set off a curse until you do it," Pippa argued.

"That's what we have detection spells for."

"Like those little golden sparkles that did so well detecting an entrapment curse?"

Their bickering reminded Hermione of the way Bill and Charlie had argued when they'd travelled from Hogwarts to the Burrow. Pieces started to come together. They'd both been hurting over Fred's death and taking it out on each other. Bill and Pippa had been getting along fine until she'd mentioned the death of her best friend. Everyone processed their pain differently, even years later. Did it ever stop hurting? And did it ever get easier to not take it out on those still alive?

"Hold on," Ron said from the back of the group, freezing everyone in place. He took a few steps backwards, his eyes scouring the walls. "That portrait of Walburga Black… it's gone."

Everyone's eyes, except Pippa's, darted towards the blank expanse of wall where a screaming portrait should have been. "It was fixed with a Permanent Sticking charm, though," Hermione said. "How…?"

"Everyone who tried to take it down was part of the Order," Bill said, his face scrunched as he tried to find reason. "Maybe only a fellow Blood Purist could take it down."

Ron scoffed. "She probably leapt off the wall as soon as a DeathEater walked in and begged him to take her away."

The silence in the house felt even more ominous now that they were aware of the lack of familiar screaming. Bill paused at the dining room, shooting another round of golden sparks inside. He glanced at Pippa as she came up beside him. "Care to throw something else in?"

"No, thanks," she said, "but not because I trust your little sparkles. Do you really think anything else here is cursed?" She pointed back towards the entrance. "That was a pretty big curse in itself, and DeathEaters tend to be pretty cocky. Why would they bother with anything else when no one was getting out of those chains by themselves?"

"You can't be too careful," Bill said simply, stepping into the dining room and asking Harry and Ginny to cast their wandlight as he examined the room with his own. Pippa meandered around, not lighting anymore candles but using her own wand to investigate the dresser full of antique china. Hermione and Ron looked around for anything misplaced that might have been tampered with, but neither of them completely remembered how'd they left the dining room the last time they were there.

The group took ages to move down to the kitchen, slowed by Bill's meticulous pace. Hermione admired his patience and thoroughness, but the others grew more and more restless. Ron sunk into a chair and stared up at the ceiling, giving in to the boredom, while Bill had to remind Harry to watch his wand as his attention wandered and the light at the end of his wand drifted away from where Bill was working. Even Pippa paced around for a bit before slipping out of the room, unnoticed by Bill until he announced the room clear a few minutes later. "Ugh, where did she get off to?" he muttered as he led the way back upstairs.

They found Pippa up in the drawing room, having lit every lantern and examining the Black family tree. It seemed Kreacher had kept up with the house cleaning after they'd gone. In the bright light streaming in from the window, every surface gleamed and not a single speck of dust floated in the air. Unfortunately, this gave everyone but Bill little to nothing to do. Hermione approached Bill and asked, "Can you show me the spells you're using? They seem useful to know."

So while Harry and Ron played several rounds of Exploding Snap with an ancient-looking deck Harry had found in one of the chests and Ginny showed Pippa around the rest of the house, Bill taught Hermione a few basic curse and jinx detection charms. Though he praised her for the wandwork, she felt little success as every wave of her wand caused the objects in front of her to do absolutely nothing. A part of her wished she'd stumbled upon a jinxed item. Then, at least, she'd know she was doing the spell right.

As they finished off examining the final sofa cushion, the last object Bill deemed as a possible danger, Pippa and Ginny returned, the former saying, "Can we please take a break for lunch?"

"I don't think there's any food here, is there?" Ron said.

"We passed at least half a dozen Muggle eateries on our drive here," Hermione said. "I'm sure we could find a place to get take out."

She could feel the reluctance at the mention of 'muggle' from everyone in the room, even Harry as he said, "We'd need muggle money."

"I always carry some on me," Hermione answered. "I can go."

"You can't go alone," Ron grumbled with annoyance as he got to his feet. "I'll come with you."

He seemed less than keen on the idea. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"Well, you can't go by yourself."

"Someone else can come with me."

"Do you want someone else to go?"

"No, that's not what I–"

"Good. Let's go," Ron said with finality. He strode out of the room, his feet falling heavy on the stairs as he headed for the front door.

Hermione glared after him, her cheeks hot as she felt four pairs of eyes on her. Bill cleared his throat. "Pippa, why don't you go with them?"

Anger burned white in Hermione's veins. The last thing she wanted was for some pretty older witch to witness her and Ron's bickering while simultaneously making Ron blush and stutter like a schoolboy. The heat of her rage must have radiated off her because Pippa didn't entertain the idea for a second. "I think they'll be just fine on their own," she said, raising her hands to silently add that she did not want to get involved. "Besides, missing shoe, remember?"

"We won't be long," Hermione said, not making eye contact with anyone as she flounced out of the room and followed Ron's path downstairs. He sat on the stoop outside, waiting for her. "Ready?" she asked.

Ron grunted his affirmation, falling into step beside her as they walked down the block. "I think I saw a Chinese takeaway restaurant down this way," she said, trying to keep a cordial tone. Ron didn't reply. He strolled beside her at a slow pace, his hands deep in the pockets of his trousers and eyes begging to be anywhere else but at her side. She felt like she was dragging around a miserable guard dog. "You didn't have to come if you didn't want to."

Ron bristled "Did you not want me to come?"

"Not if you're going to be sulking the whole time."

"Seriously?" he asked incredulously. "You're going to tell me off? After you were the one who bit my head off earlier for making a joke."

"It wasn't funny–"

"So you said."

"–and you shouldn't have said it."

"Trust me, I won't make the mistake of trying to make you laugh again."

Hermione crossed her arms, trying to refrain from making a scene. They'd turned on to a much more busy street, and they'd already gotten a few second glances from those passing by. "There are just some things you shouldn't joke about," she hissed. "And nearly losing your arm is one of them."

"Right, remind me when I see George again that he can't make fun of his missing ear anymore. I'm sure he'll take that news well."

"That's not the same thing at all."

"Really? How?"

"Because it's my fault you were Splinched," Hermione said in such a passionate but hushed tone that her words were little more than puffs of air.

"It wasn't your fault," Ron said like that was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. "If anything, it was my fault, trying to push Yaxley away as soon as I saw him. Even as I realized you were Apparating us again, I still tried to shoulder him down the stairs."

"It was still a stupid thing for me to do. Not giving your or Harry any warning. Either one of you could have lost your head!"

"Oh, Hermione," Ron said, shaking his head. "You need to stop being so hard on yourself. Just because you're the brightest witch of your age doesn't mean you don't make mistakes."

Hermione flinched. She hated being reminded of how normal and even necessary it was to make mistakes. Everyone said that, but if one simply read the research and thought it through before acting, so many mistakes could be avoided.

Pushing those thoughts away, Hermione focused instead on the current situation. How much longer was she going to stay angry at Ron for being insensitive? Was she even still angry? No, not about that, at least. Ginny was completely right, not that Hermione had needed it pointed out. Or maybe she did. If Ginny voiced it, Hermione couldn't continue ignoring how big of an issue this Auror training actually was.

However, now did not seem the time to bring that up.

"I'm sorry for being short with you," Hermione said, mending what she could in the moment.

"It's alright," he said, so easy to forgive. His hands emerged from the depths of his pockets to swing at his side in invitation. Hermione uncurled her crossed arms and took his hand, the tightness in her chest deflating as soon as his fingers entwined with hers.

Across the street, she spotted the Chinese restaurant she'd seen on their drive. Ron never had muggle takeaway before, let alone Chinese specifically, so he poured over the menu and asked about a hundred questions. Unsure what everyone would like, Hermione settled on a mixture of basics and extra rice in case they hated everything else. She quietly explained to Ron the conversion of what she'd spent in magical money as they waited for their order, then headed back onto the street.

As they crossed the road again, Hermione noticed a small corner bookstore right in front of them. It had been so long since she'd been in any bookshop, let alone a muggle one. Her feet automatically took her to the window, Ron's feet stumbling as she pulled him off course. She gazed inside for a moment before Ron asked, "D'you want to go in?"

"We should get back," Hermione said, though she didn't move away. "The food will get cold."

"And we couldn't possibly have a way to warm it back up," Ron stated sarcastically, motioning to the pocket he'd stored his wand in.

"Right," she said, her gaze snapping back to the books displayed in the window. They sat in stacks with a single upright copy propped on top of each tower, begging to be snatched up and read. They really shouldn't stay out too long though. "Well… maybe… if only for a few minutes…"

"Come on." Ron tugged her to the door, making the decision for her. After crossing the threshold, though, Hermione took the lead and went for the nearest row. The first half was dedicated to all the bestsellers, books with glistening covers and tiny ribbons underneath the title. Beside those were rows of magazines that instantly caught Ron's eye. He picked up an automobile copy, mumbling, "What's gas mileage?"

She chuckled as she watched him flip through the pages, but then a sign above his shoulder caught her eye. "Why don't you stay here," she said, putting a hand on his arm as he opened his mouth to argue. "I'll be right over there." She pointed behind him to another row that, with his height, he'd easily be able to see over the shelves.

"Alright," he grumbled, and she could feel him watching as she walked away. Being out in the world like this gave Hermione the distinct feeling of being exposed and unsafe. Even walking a few feet on her own away from Ron, the hairs on her arms stood up and her heart raced. A Death Eater could leap out from behind one of the shelves at any moment.

Hermione breathed deep to steady herself. They were in London in a muggle bookstore with the war over and no reason to think they'd been followed. In fact, there were only two other customers in the entire tiny shop that Hermione could see, and they'd been there before she and Ron walked in. They didn't need to be so cautious anymore.

Knowing Ron was still watching, Hermione stopped in front of the science section of books, running her hands along the covers and absentmindedly pulling a random book out to flip through it. She glanced behind her to see Ron's attention returned to the car magazine, jammed the book back into place, and quickly sidled down to the self-help shelf.

This was the opportunity she'd been waiting for. This was all she needed: a book to tell her exactly how to manage her nightmares and anxiety. Reading over the titles, though, the bubble of excitement in her chest burst: 'The Road to Happiness', 'Today's Success', 'Worries Be Gone'. None of them were what she was looking for.

"Can I help you find something?"

Hermione jumped, whirling around to find a girl about her age with round glasses and a bronze name tag behind her. "Sorry," she said, "I didn't mean to sneak up on you."

"It's okay," Hermione said as she realized she'd put a hand to her chest. She quickly returned it to her side and snuck a glance at Ron. She could just see the tops of his eyes turned down in confused concentration. "I was… I was actually hoping to find something to… to help a friend."

Not the most original lie, but the shop clerk showed no sign of disbelieving. "Ah, do you mind me asking you with what? I inventory all the books before shelving them, so I might be able to help you find anything you need."

"Well…" Hermione searched for the right words. She'd never really explained this to anyone who wasn't there, and this poor girl was a muggle and completely ignorant to the war that had been happening right under her nose. "My friend went through a bit of a… a rough time recently. Very horrible things. Everything is okay now, but they're still having issues with anxiety and irritability and… sleep."

The clerk nodded like she'd been told this exact same thing a million times. "Yes, I know exactly where to look. These books here are mostly motivational fluff with not much sound advice," she said, motioning to the self-help books. "However, just over here…" She led Hermione down the row, passed the science shelves she'd poked through earlier, and to another section labelled psychology. Of course, Hermione thought.

"Some of these books can be more technical than helpful," the clerk said as she ran her finger along the spines and scanned the titles, "but there's one I remember that seemed much more practical. Yes, here it is." She tugged out a moderately sized book with an off-white cover and fancy blue lettering that read The Ghosts Of Our Past: A Guide To Overcoming Trauma.

The clerk flipped through the pages. "If I remember correctly, yes, see, there's some exercises on working through various reactions a person may have: breathing techniques, talking points, and an entire chapter on supporting a loved one who's been through a traumatic event." She handed the book to Hermione. "Does that seem like what you were looking for?"

"Exactly," Hermione said, her hands shaking as she took the book and scanned the back cover. "Thank you."

"It's alight," the clerk said. "It's my job, after all. Speaking of, I think I'm needed at the till." She nodded over Hermione's shoulder where a middle-aged woman approached the round counter in the centre of the shop and tapped the little bell sitting beside the register. "Let me know if I can help you find anything else." With a warm smile, she dashed off to check out the muggle woman, leaving Hermione to stare down at the guidebook.

She had done it. She'd found the answer to all her problems. Once she read this book, everything would get better. It took all her willpower not to open to chapter one right at that moment.

Instead, she glanced over to Ron, not all that surprised when she met his eyes peeking over the shelf. She smiled and nodded in acknowledgement, trying to signal that she was almost finished, then his gaze settled back down again.

They really needed to get back to Grimmauld Place. He wouldn't ask her what she brought, would he? Oh, what if he did? She didn't mind telling him but that would lead to a whole conversation she didn't want to have until after she'd read this book and had a plan and could tell him exactly what his role in that plan was.

Hermione rushed to the centre of the shop, pausing by the table near the entrance that displayed the "Most Recommended Books Of The Month." She grabbed two at random and made it to the till just as the muggle woman took her bag.

"Find everything alright?" the clerk girl asked as she scanned the books, cringing as soon as the words left her mouth. "Sorry, force of habit. Oh, I love this book. Fell in love with the main character straight away, though I can't remember her name now…" Hermione nodded, making some noncommittal comment about finding the summary interesting, and hurrying the transaction along. All she could think about was getting the books into a bag and out of sight before Ron showed up at her side.

As the clerk handed her the bag and wished her a happy rest of her day, she heard the slap of a magazine hit the floor and Ron calling out her name. Her heart jumped in her throat at the panic in his voice, and when she turned, she expected a Death Eater to be standing right behind her.

But there was nothing there. She looked over to where she'd left him and saw his red hair bobbing back and forth frantically behind the shelf. "Hermione!" he called again before running back out to the centre, his eyes scanning the store before landing on her. "Shit," he said in relief, crossing over to her in two large steps.

He grabbed her by the shoulder, looking her over, his face pale and shining with sweat. "Ron, what's wrong?" she asked, still glancing around for a dark form in a cloak hiding behind a shelf.

"You… you disappeared," he said, the grip on her shoulders tightening. "You can't do that! I thought… I thought–"

"Shhh," Hermione hushed him, glancing behind her at the clerk who seemed to have overcome the shock of Ron's outburst rather quickly. Hermione put a hand to Ron's clammy cheek. "I'm right here. I didn't go anywhere. Come on." She grabbed his hand, pulling his grip off her shoulder and onto her fingers.

"Thanks again," she said over her shoulder to the clerk as she hurried Ron out of the store before they caused even more of a scene.

"Glad I could help," the girl said in a strange tone, staring after Ron like the pieces of Hermione's story finally made sense. Oh, if only she knew.

Once out in the fresh air, Hermione pulled Ron around the corner where the shop's windows ended at a solid brick wall. There were fewer people down this side street, and Ron leaned against the wall, his arms still shaking. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he muttered as he tried to catch his breath.

"Nothing's wrong–" Hermione started to say, but Ron cut her off as he crashed his back against the wall and ploughed on.

"I mean, I've woken up like that a few times in the night but… it's the middle of the damn day." He gestured up at the clear blue sky. "I don't know what happened. I didn't know where you'd gone, and it was like I knew the worst had happened and… and…"

Hermione grabbed both his hands in hers, stilling his jerky movements. "Trust me, Ron," she said. "I understand. Just breath. It will pass."

She clung to his hands as he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. As his body relaxed, she did what she had wanted to do in the first place. She let go of his hands to wrap her arms around his waist and lean her head into his chest. His arms snapped around her, the bag of Chinese food hitting against the back of her leg.

His embrace tightened more and more the longer he held her, his heartbeat slowing against her ear. Just as his tight grip finally started to hurt, his arms relaxed but did not let go. Hermione closed her eyes, not wanting to leave the warmth of his body yet. There'd been such a distance between them for the past two days that she'd nearly forgotten how amazing being this close felt. She didn't want to go back.

She listened to the steady sound of his heart until a gurgling from his stomach crept in and interrupted her reprieve. They really needed to go back. There'd be a search party for them soon. Reluctantly, she lifted her head and stepped back. "We should go."

"Yeah," he said, though he seemed as disappointed by that fact as she. She pulled him away from the wall, forcing him back to the main road and down towards Grimmauld Place. As they walked, his stomach growled again, more aggressively than the first. "I can't wait to try this sour sweet chicken."

"Sweet and sour chicken," she corrected.

"Does the order really matter that much?"

"No, I guess not."


Author's Note: Wow, it's been a long time since I last updated this story, so if you are still sticking around, thanks a bunch! It's been difficult to continue creative endeavours with the state of the world at the moment, but it is nice to escape to them when I've got the energy to do so. I hope that this lengthy chapter is enough to earn some forgiveness for not posting a new chapter for nearly two months. I am going to finish this story, not to worry, but my momentum has definitely slowed with my mental health not being at its peak lately. Anyways, I always want to give a big thank you to anyone and everyone who has followed, favourited, and/or reviewed. You are the marshmallows to my hot chocolate.