Three Weeks Ago

When Ron had suggested that the two of them should make an expedition into the corridors of the school, and not just for blankets and other rations this time, Harry almost beamed. He shook slightly with hastily concealed joy as Ron spoke of stealthily sneaking away from Hermione and Hagrid's watchful eyes and intrepidly venturing outside of the Great Hall. Harry could see beyond the fire and determination in Ron's eyes as he spoke, to a deeper place where Ron was secretly pleased with himself at being able to make Harry smile, if ever so vaguely. The look that Harry saw there was almost desperate, pleading, as if Harry's happiness was of grave importance to Ron. Harry snorted at the notion. He was tired of other people worrying about him. Ron needed to get a life and stop constantly tagging along on the famous Harry Potter's coattails, he thought bitterly.

Every day was like this for him: a roller-coaster of emotional highs and lows. One moment of feeling guiltily happy, smirking to himself, and then grimacing and sneering at the ridiculous idea that he could ever really be happy again. He was exhausted.

Harry did not need much convincing to sneak out of the Great Hall the next evening, at their agreed upon departure time. One swift jab from Ron and Harry was wide awake. He had been sleeping very soundly ever since he had made up his mind to undertake the brief journey out into the castle. He was looking forward to confronting the night that lay beyond the heavy castle doors.

He glanced at the digital watch on his bony wrist. Ron had been vastly entertained by the tiny instrument when Harry had first purchased it several years ago in a tiny Muggle artifacts store tucked away in Diagon Alley. Harry had always wanted a watch, but the Dursleys had never allowed him one. It was one of the few luxuries he had allowed himself. The time on his small electronic luxury currently read 2:46 am.

Harry rose as smoothly and quietly as his strain-tensed muscles would allow. He pulled on his trainers over the two pairs of socks he was wearing to keep warm, and silently began to steal away from the other students, closely following Ron's lead. Most of the other huddled bodies in the Hall were asleep, but Harry was sure that a few were still up. Awake or not, nobody tried to stop Harry or Ron from sneaking out, and Harry was glad for it. Hermione was still asleep in the darkness behind them, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. She had so much faith in the three of them; she never would have expected Ron and Harry to go off without her, and so she hadn't been waiting up to stop them as poor Neville Longbottom had tried to do their first year.

Harry didn't feel guilty at all for leaving her behind. As much as he often felt the need to rain unwarranted vitriol upon his friends and fellow students, he certainly didn't actively wish them harm, especially not Hermione. It was safer in the Hall, and it would turn out for the better in the end if Hermione were to stay behind and out of harm's way. He needed Ron, however. He needed a witness to run back to the Hall later on and frantically report that Harry was missing, to tell his story, and to mourn his disappearance. It would hurt Ron, yes, but Harry was more than prepared to make that sacrifice.

~*~

Harry's footsteps followed closely behind his own, and Ron felt a small thrill travel up his body. It shot up from the pit of his stomach and out into a million tiny threads into his chest and head and arms. He took a cautious breath to clear his mind of the tingle that blurred his vision and sped up his heart. He was more than thrilled to have Harry following behind him now. Harry was finally eager to do something, to join in, for the first time in months. It felt like old times; Ron flashed happily through the memories of their many adventures in his mind. Sure, each exploit had been almost equally dangerous as their current one, but they'd come through relatively unscathed each time. Ron held onto the buoyant hope that this time would be no different.

The two boys made their way out of the Hall and into what Seamus Finnegan had begun referring to as the DMZ. The reference was rather lost on Ron, but it sounded fierce and intimidating, adjectives which were entirely appropriate now. The air in the corridor was cold, but their breath remained invisible. Ron and Harry looked at one another for instructions, and finding that neither was well-suited for the task of leading the cavalry, Ron spoke quietly.

"Which way should we go?"

"I have no bloody idea. I don't even know where to begin." Harry sounded annoyed that Ron didn't already have a plan formed. This little trip had been Ron's scheme, after all, and not Harry's. That in and of itself was strange to Ron, the idea that he should be the leader for once.

"Well, I was thinking that we could try one of our tunnels. You know, from the map."

"Yes, I suppose that we could, although the map hasn't worked since the siege. It's blank all the time now..." Harry trailed off.

"I know, but we still know where the tunnels are. We don't really need the map to tell us that," Ron continued.

"Fine," Harry answered sullenly. "As long as we go. Somewhere. I don't care. Let's move." His words were clipped and short.

Ron cocked his head slightly at the sudden stringency of the words. "All right," he began slowly. "Let's try the tunnel by the old hag with the hump, I guess."

"Fine," Harry repeated.

They started purposefully towards the third floor wing, wands within easy reach. The pat of shoes upon the stones and their soft, steady breathing were the only sounds echoing in the dim halls. Harry had fallen behind him again, so Ron slowed his pace and took up a position at Harry's left side.

Ron turned his head slightly to look in Harry's direction and perhaps try to catch his eye. Ron caught his bright emerald eyes for one brief second and lifted one corner of his mouth in a supplicating, little half-smile. Harry only glowered at him in response and proceeded to purposely fall behind yet again.