Author's note: Alright everyone. This is the first time I've ever written a Harry Potter fanfic so, hope you enjoy. It was just a sudden impulse I had this morning and I had to write it out.

Disclaimer: I don't own HP, obviously.

Time: This is set right before Harry, Ron, and Hermione's last year at Hogwarts.

Three Steps to Eternity

Back and forth….back and forth. The rhythmic pattern of shoes hitting stone beat in time with her thoughts.

"Where is he?"

Back and forth, back and forth.

"He should be here by now."

Back and forth, back and forth. It was a never-ending thing, a habit that Hermione had started ever since she first arrived at Hogwarts….since she had first met Harry. Ever since the summer started, the summer right before their last year, she felt like she could do nothing but dread. Every day her worry seemed to heighten, always encompassing her mind, her heart, and her soul. She worried about school, she worried about classes, she worried about life, but most of all, she worried about Harry.

It was like he was always getting himself into trouble, be it with the teachers or with Voldemort. Each time something happened, she felt that gnawing fear in the back of her mind…a fear that she would lose him before life actually returned to normal again, or as normal as life could be. He was the boy that lived. He was the one that had to defeat the dark lord and he was the one that had to risk his life over and over again just to protect himself and those around him.

Hermione ran a hand along the back of her neck, head falling onto her hand. A cascade of brown hair drifted over her shoulders and bounced along her arms as she continued to pace. Why, why did he do this? Why did he always set up a meeting place for them and then never show? Why was he going out in the open to begin with? Didn't he know that it was dangerous? Well…of course he knew. He just wouldn't use his brain to realize that every time he stepped out of the Dursley's house, he was putting himself at risk.

But Harry, he just didn't seem to care any more. Hermione watched, everyday, as he pushed down the anxiety of the world and tried to live a normal life. Though she was glad he was happy again, especially after….well, Sirius, she was disconcerted to know that he wasn't taking the time to even worry about his own safety. There was so much that could happen to him… she might never know about it until it was too late. That alone scared her to death.

Sitting at one of the many tables, Ron rested his head on his hand, staring at the board in front of him. Time and again he'd glance over at his friend, watching as she drove herself closer and closer to forming an ulcer in her stomach. He was use to it by now. The pacing, the muttering…it was how Hermione was. It was like she was more worried about Harry than he was about himself.

Sighing, Ron looked up long enough to watch Hermione run her hand through her bushy hair in frustration. Her anxiety and demeanor were all too familiar but Ron could do nothing but sigh. It was best to just let her hammer it out herself. Shaking his head, he went back to the game of wizard's chest that he was playing with one of the inn locals. The old man across from him moved his pawn and seemed rather pleased with himself until Ron's knight decapitated his queen.

"Check mate."

A moment of silence passed before the man shot to his feet and walked away from the table, off to get beat by yet another opponent. Ron smirked. It always seemed to frustrate the adults when they lost to a teen of his age. Reaching out, he started clearing the board of the chess fragments, eyeing his knight who was doing something akin to a victory dance. Well, that had never happened before. Sweeping the tiny tokens into a box, he rested his arms on the board and sighed.

He had been saving the game for Harry but it appeared that he was going to be a no show…again. Was he worried? Yes. Was he going to drive himself to an early grave because of it? Not bloody well likely. Hermione may have wanted to risk her health by fretting but he would deal with the situation when it arose. He already planned on having a little talk with Harry, one that wouldn't be all fun and games.

"He's always late like this!" Hermione cried.

Ron sighed and leaned back in his chair, giving a casual shrug of his shoulders. They had been through this over and over again yet it never ceased to amaze him how Hermione could come up with more things to worry about.

"You know how he is Hermione. He's not content unless he gets into some sort of trouble. You know he can't keep himself out of danger."

Hermione wheeled on him and threw her hands up in the air in exasperation.

"That's precisely what I'm worried about, Ronald! Voldemort's out there with his Death Eaters while Harry's frolicking around, acting like the murderer isn't lurking in the shadows, waiting to kill him."

Ron lifted an eyebrow. "Frolicking?"

"Oh shut up, you know what I mean," Hermione growled. She thrust her hands into her jeans and continued her mad pacing, her eyes burning with frustration and worry. Back and forth, back and forth….the story of her life. Oh how she just wanted to ring Harry's neck sometimes.

Part of her didn't even want to care about him. She didn't want to have to worry every day about his safety, wondering if he would come back to them alive or in pieces. But she knew that feeling would never go away. She had to face the facts, she did love him and she always would. That was what made her so flustered in the first place. She cared about him, but he never seemed to care enough to let her know that he was all right.

Hermione sighed and felt Ron's eyes resting on her as she contemplated. He was always there for her, to comfort her when she fretted about Harry or just needed a shoulder to cry on when he wasn't around. It was a wonder that she hadn't fallen in love with Ron himself…but she knew her heart belonged to Harry. Now if he could only realize that and actually keep his promise to meet them; and keep his promise to stay alive.

As she started pacing again, she felt Ron's hand land on her shoulder and draw her into a hug. Willingly, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head into his shoulder, tears pricking at her eyes.

"You know I care about him, Ron," she whispered, her voice quivering. "I'm just so tired of this…I'm so tired of worrying and wondering if he's alive or not. I…I don't want to wake up one morning and open the daily prophet to find out that he's been killed."

Ron sighed deeply and patted Hermione's back, his eyes drifting towards the stairs in the inn. How many times had he said the same thing himself? Whenever they were all apart, he continuously looked at the paper or even the news, just praying that something hadn't happened to Harry. It was probably a superfluous amount of worrying since he knew his father would probably be one of the first to know if something happened. Either that or the Order would alert them immediately. Still, it didn't stem his fears.

"I know Hermione but…think about it. Look at everything Harry's been through and everything he's done. He's managed to stand up to Voldemort on plenty of occasions and he's come out of it relatively unscathed."

"Unscathed in body but not in mind," Hermione shot back but quickly regretted her tone. Ron frowned and glanced down at the floor.

"I know. At least he's trying to look on the bright side of life now, though. I mean, he's forgotten some of his grief an-"

"Oh Ron wake up and smell the butter beer. He hasn't forgotten it at all!" Hermione pulled back and waved her hand towards the door, her eyes shifting as if she was naught more than a trapped animal. "I can see it when he looks at me. That pain is still there, still burning inside of him. But what scares me the most is that he's trying to hide it. He's trying to suppress those feelings by going around and doing dangerous things. He's going to get himself killed!"

"Hermione…"

"Ronald I'm so tired of it! I don't want to see him die!"

"Hermione, wait-"

"NO!" Whirling around, Hermione stalked towards the table, tears already coursing down her cheeks. "If Harry comes to the inn just tell him…tell him I went to bed!"

She reached out and snatched her books from the table with unsteady hands, knocking over a tankard as she turned. Without looking back, she ran up the stairs, a single sob leaving her throat.

All Ron heard was the slam of a door until he was left alone with the few locals that remained. They glanced at him curiously but Ron ignored them all. Instead, he sat down heavily at the table and pressed his head in his hands.

"Harry…where are you?"

An hour later, the door to the Leaky Cauldron opened, emitting not only a bedraggled, damp person, but the fierce winds and stream of rain water that was beating against the inn. Harry shook out his damp hair and straightened his glasses, the candlelight dancing across his green eyes. A large grin was drawn up on his face, making him appear as if the world had been handled to him on a silver platter.

He had reason to smile, though, and he couldn't wait until he saw Hermione. He'd finally do it tonight…he'd finally tell her everything he needed to. Everyday he hesitated about doing it but now, he knew that he had finally built up enough courage to talk to her. She was his friend after all…and he could only hope that her response would be the one he expected.

As he walked in, a hand streaked out of the darkness and wrapped around Harry's collar, yanking him out into the main room. He stumbled over the uneven floor and almost fell flat on his face before he came to a stop, his shirt still caught in the hand of his perpetrator. Before he could even think to grab his wand, Ron's red tinted face came within an inch of his nose.

"Where the bloody hell have you been?!"

Harry looked up into his friend's furious eyes, his hands tightening to the point that the young wizard thought he was going to choke.

"Arg, Ron! Let go of me."

Ron released his jacket but not without giving him a small shove. Harry leaned back against the table, watching as his friend stalked back towards the stairs of the inn, his eyes locking on his own accusingly.

"Well you've certainly made a fine mess of things, mate."

Blinking in surprise at the callused tone to Ron's voice, Harry placed a hand on his mess of damp hair. This certainly hadn't been what he had expected. He knew he was late by a couple minutes at least but he had expected Ron and Hermione to at least wait until he could explain what had held him up. Instead, his so-called friend was glaring at him as if he was Voldemort himself.

"Whoa, Ron. What are you talking about? I know I'm a little late but that doesn't mean-"

"Try three hours late, Harry," Ron snapped, his arms folding across his chest. Normally he wouldn't have been so mad but with the way Hermione was reacting, he finally decided there had been enough beating around the bush. Someone had to put his foot down.

Harry stared at him for a moment then looked at his watch. It was only 6:30, he was supposed to meet them at 6. Only then did he realize that the minute hand had stopped moving. A groan issued from his throat and he dropped his arm to his side with a roll of his eyes.

"Ron, listen I'm sorry. My watch must not be working an-"

"Gee, you couldn't tell by the darkening sky that it was getting late? Bloody hell, Harry."

For the first time, Harry's eyes darkened and he sat back on the table. What in the world was he getting so mad about? It had been an honest mistake and now Ron was acting like he had brought some demon back from the dead or something of the sort. He was use to seeing his friend mad…but not this mad. Hell, maybe he should have just gone back home instead of agreeing to spend the night here with the both of them.

"Ron, what the hell is this all about? You've never bitten off my head before."

"Because I never had reason to!" Ron snapped. "Damnit Harry you've done this three times this week. Three! Hermione practically burst out in tears tonight!"

Harry jerked back and felt his mouth drop open. "What? Why was she crying?"

Ron skidded in his pace and looked over his shoulder at Harry. Again, his eyes flickered in anger and he gave a half sneer. "Don't be so naïve, Harry. You know how much she cares and worries about you. I swear…sometimes I wonder if you actually love her in return! She's going to end up killing herself because she's fretting about your safety every damn day!"

Silence.

For a long time, Harry just sat there, staring at Ron as if he had just been slapped in the face. Being late had caused that much worry for Hermione? But…why? He was safe, he was alive. What need was there for her to drive herself mad over his life? Harry stared blankly forward then looked at the ground. Still, that wasn't fully the pressing issue. What Ron had said really hurt and a whole mass of guilt started rising inside of his heart. He hadn't meant to worry them all but; seriously, didn't they think he could take care of himself?

Hell, he'd fought Voldemort enough that they should have known that he wasn't that easy to kill off. Everyone was out to get him and yet he had evaded them almost every step of the way. Why should they start worrying now? He was stronger with his magic and he knew how to defend himself. He didn't need people watching over his shoulder because they were afraid he was going to end up in some sort of trouble!

A frown drew up on his face and he watched Ron come to a stop not but five feet away from him. His red headed friend looked at the wall, listening as the thunder roared above them. When he spoke, his voice was low and dry.

"Harry, you have to stop doing this. You're giving both Hermione and I heart attacks. We never know if you're gong to come back and we never know if you're in danger. You leave us in the dark…what do you expect us to do? She's driving herself insane, Harry. I haven't seen her look so worried in…forever."

A burst of anger flared in Harry's eyes and he got to his feet again, his shoes squelching from the rainwater.

"Ron, I'm not a little kid! I know of the danger. I don't need you two scolding me because I had something important to d-"

"What's more important than your life?!" Ron thrust out a hand and narrowed his eyes. "You always run into trouble, Harry and you always seem to need someone to help pull you out of it. One of these days, Hermione and I aren't going to be there and you're going to have to do it by yourself. That's the day that we'll know something has happened to you. You can't risk yourself on stupid little adventures around town! We need you to stay alive."

Stunned, Harry could only allow his mouth to fall open and his eyes to widen. Where the bloody hell had this all come from? First they all wanted to blind him to what was happening with Voldemort and his minions. Second they wanted to keep him away from the Order so that he wouldn't end up doing something foolish and getting himself killed. Now he was having Ron yell at him, telling him that his life was too important to risk because they needed him.

Harry narrowed his eyes. Yes, it always seemed they needed him. They needed him to fight their battles for them, to fight Voldemort and figure out all his plots and the plots of his minions. They needed him to be there to be the boy that lived so that he could bring down the greatest dark wizard of all time. They needed him to live so that he could get killed actually fighting Voldemort once the final battle came. In a sense, they needed him to fight…they didn't need him because of who he was.

Harry looked away and gritted his teeth. Everyone was so concerned over his safety because they knew he was the only one that could probably fight Voldemort and have a chance at killing him. They didn't care about the boy inside, just that they could use him as their own little pawn. The Order, Dumbledore…even his own friends. He was good for nothing else but fighting. Very slowly Harry looked up and spoke between clenched teeth.

"In short," he muttered, his voice growing darker with each word, "you don't want me to live my own life."

Ron gave a roll of his eyes. "What are you prattling on about?"

"You just want me to fight your own battles; to destroy Voldemort and nothing else. That's all everyone ever wants. They want me to hide away in my aunt and uncle's home just so I don't get killed before I can die fighting him!"

Ron fell into a dead silence, his eyes locked on Harry's. The young wizard's eyes burned with hate, anger and another feeling…betrayal. He couldn't keep doing this, couldn't keep fighting his friends and everyone around him. They wanted him to be something that he did not want to become. He didn't want to die in some great battle…he wanted to live life like the rest of them. He was still human for christ's sake.

He saw Ron's face soften and he took a step forward, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. Harry pulled back.

"I'm so sick of it Ron. Everyone worries about me because they don't want me to get killed until they need me to. They try to keep me locked up like a precious weapon and the only time I'm allowed to see something outside of the closet is when they want me to." Harry clenched his fists then shut his eyes. "Sometimes I wish I had your life."

Ron's hand stopped half way towards Harry's shoulder and he let it drop. The compassion that had been there a moment before changed into one of mild scorn.

"You think my life is so easy, mate? You think that it's all fun and daises?"

Harry looked up sharply and once more spoke in a voiced filled with darkness. "No but at least you don't carry my burden, Ron. They don't expect you to go off and try to kill some wizard. You aren't cramped away in a house with a bloody family that doesn't give a damn about you. You're free to live your own life, Ron, I'm not." His tone quieted and he looked away. "They see the scar, Ron, but they don't see the boy behind it…they never do. They don't care who I am, they just care about what I can do for them."

Ron sighed deeply and shook his head. Harry ignored it. It was becoming all too clear now. His fellow witches and wizards weren't trying to protect him by keeping him locked away. No, they were just trying to protect themselves, ensuring that they would actually have a future. It didn't matter that they were using a young boy in their manipulative plans. So long as they lived, that was all that mattered. The thought of it caused Harry's blood to boil but he said nothing. What more could he say?

From the corner of his eye, he saw Ron look up at him, his eyes softer than they were before.

"Harry…that's not true. They care about you like Hermione and I do. They just don't want to see you get hurt."

Though Harry heard his words, he didn't give a response. He was lost in his own little world of despair, realizing that he truly had no life, and he may never have one. If he killed Voldemort without getting himself murdered, then maybe he'd have a chance… but he doubted it. He tried to push the thought out of his head but he knew his death was soon to come. It was just a matter of time.

"Harry."

Harry looked up once then turned towards the table. "Ron…I want to be alone for awhile."

"Har-"

"Just go."

Slowly, Ron pulled away from his shoulder and headed for the stairs. Harry heard the creak of the wooden steps as his friend reached the second level but didn't turn. He had too much to think about…too much to grieve about. He finally realized why it was they wanted him. They didn't care about him…just about what he could do. He was a pawn…a pawn like on the chessboard. Everyone played his piece, played his life…he could only sit and watch as they manipulated him.

Heart heavy, Harry sat down at the table and stared at a half filled tankard. Everyone looked at the glass as half full…he could only think of it as being half empty. It was like his heart at the moment. He had been so full of hope and joy when he finally arrived at the inn and now, everything was crashing down around him. The hope had been shot to the dirt; his happiness had been dashed as quickly as dust on a breeze. Life was just cruel at times.

He rubbed his temples with a hand then reached into his pocket, withdrawing a tiny box. It was covered in soft blue velvet making it quite pleasant to the touch. With the innkeeper gone and the other customers off to bed, he was left alone, watching as his thumb slowly clicked open the box. Inside was a beautiful silver ring with a small diamond on the end. It glittered faintly in the room, catching the light and throwing it at the table in an array of colors.

Harry turned the ring slowly and stared at the side where, engraved, was the name Hermione in beautiful cursive letters. It was why he had been late in the first place. Now he felt late in more ways than one. He was late in time and in asking her the one question that lingered in his mind….the one question he had been prepared to ask her.

Slowly, his finger fell on the box and closed it with a soft click…a sound that almost reminded him of the door to his life closing. His eternity had already been determined. He'd was the boy who lived….he had become the boy who was used and soon…very soon, he'd be the boy who died.

Harry put his head down on his arms, the box and ring falling to the table.

Three steps to eternity…