(A/N: This chapter jumps ahead to after the HBP school year)

It had been the most dramatic year of their lives.

They had just accomplished their sixth and abruptly final year at Hogwarts.

The magnificent castle grew more miniscule, eventually obscured from view by mountains as the train chugged away.

Hadn't it been just yesterday that they had drifted towards Hogwarts in tiny boats as timid first years? Hadn't they just defeated Quirrell and Voldemort? Was it just a short while ago that they had found out the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets?

They had just recently saved Sirius Black from an unjust execution last week, right? Just yesterday Harry had been through the perilous journey of the Triwizard Tournament, then witnessed Lord Voldemort return. A few seconds ago they had been racing through the Department of Mysteries and battling for their lives.

They had just seen the Dark Mark on the astronomy tower and battled Death Eaters yet again. Dumbledore's limp and lifeless body was laid in a tomb a nanosecond ago. But of course none of this was true, the events all had been some time ago. Now Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, and Hermione Granger had all these adventures behind them. These seemingly recent events were now mere memories despite how long ago they had occurred.

That last train ride home had the most melancholy and numb air that had ever been contained in the Hogwarts Express. In the wake of Dumbledore's funeral nobody offered so much as a hushed whisper. It felt as though Dementors had boarded the train and were sucking the happiness from the air, leaving behind them a frigidly lost expression etched on the young faces of students.

Hermione Granger herself was still crying silently an hour after departure. She had kept her crying to a minimum this year, it had been one of her goals. Now that goal was tossed in the bin as she sobbed and pressed her forehead on Ron's welcoming shoulder. She felt vulnerable and weak when she cried. The funeral had just triggered something in her that had been fighting to be released for months. But, an hour after leaving Hogwarts for the last time, she was no longer weeping just for the sake of dear Dumbledore.

Now her tears slid down her face for the sake of the future that was to come. Though she gained a sense of the reality of war the previous summer, it was now intensified beyond imagination. How could they have been so blind as to not see how war affected everyone? As foolish children they had taken the news of another war lightly, not comprehending what war truly meant.

Upon thinking this, Hermione felt like they were no longer teenagers. They had been shoved recklessly and prematurely into adulthood at the ripe old age of seventeen. They had been robbed of the remainder of their adolescence. She didn't think Ron and Harry were ready to be adults… even she wasn't ready to be one!

She looked up to Ron, who was rubbing her back absently and staring over at Ginny. He had only cried with Hermione for a few brief minutes. Those minutes had meant so much to her, the first sign of sensitivity Ron had shown over the course of the school year. He had been so sweet and understanding the previous summer, and then he had turned into someone she didn't know. Had that moment by the pond been just a fluke, a burst of uncontrollable feelings? If so or not, he had changed and developed so much in the duration of the school year. Not only emotionally was he an adult now.

Her watery eyes scanned his physical traits as if he had just been put under a spotlight after being in the dark for a year. His jaw line was firm and his lips were in a sort of pout as he looked worriedly over at Ginny. His eyes were the same light dazzling blue, but now etched with newly found wisdom and were hidden by his knitted eyebrows. On top of getting taller, his hands and legs finally fit his body, which was fuller and more muscular. His freckles were still numerous and his hair still red, but both seemed either duller or just darker after the year's experiences. It broke Hermione's heart to see her best friend like this. He had always been an immature boy to her, an annoying brother. But now she realized he had progressed from this particular stage.

Hermione then thought about how much they were in store for, with the war going on. One of them could be as dead as a doorknob by the next morning. They would be fighting for their lives just by searching for horcruxes. What if she and Ron got in a fight and never made up before one of them was dead? What if she never got to say goodbye? And where would they even start looking for these relics that held pieces of Voldemort's shattered soul? Just thinking about these dilemmas made her entirely exhausted. As the train chugged on and spat out billows of smoke into the sky, she relinquished the battle against staying awake and surrendered to the drifting waves of sleep.

Ron felt the side of Hermione's head press on his shoulder. Her puffy eyes were clamped shut, her cherry lips slightly parted. Her bushy hair was pressed against her cheek and also tickling his neck. She must have been really exhausted to zonk out like that. He sat back against the seat gently so he would be more supportive. Poor Hermione.

He looked back to Ginny, who he had been studying closely. She had a withered and defeated façade about her. Her freckles stuck out remarkably on her sickly face. She was tearless, unlike Hermione before she had fallen asleep. Her expression was blank; it was neither happy nor sad. The little makeup she had administered that morning was now smeared under her eyes, making her look like she had risen from the grave. On top of all this, she was sitting two feet from Harry. This seemed very peculiar to Ron; he would have imagined Harry and Ginny cuddling each other for comfort after the funeral. This must have meant his best friend was no longer dating his sister. The older brother part of Ron would have enjoyed this particular bit, but for some unknown reason in the recesses of his mind he felt disappointed.

Ginny felt very awkward with Ron's eyes studying her. She knew he wanted to talk one on one, and this was fine with her because she was willing to go into her feelings to him now more than ever. She had been trying to look controlled and happy which contrasted heavily with how she felt. Obviously Ron had noticed this. He had the same serious look on his face that he had worn a year ago when she had come crying to his room.

Her chocolate eyes rose to the level of Ron's icy ones. It was amazing how they could communicate without words. Right now he was telling her he had something very important to tell her, but couldn't in the presence of Harry and Hermione. Ginny said back with her eyes she would have to speak when they arrived back at the Burrow. She knew she had to open up to him eventually, seeing as she was going to have to face him all summer. Maybe they would make this summer fun. They could swim, play Quidditch, and joke like the good old days. They could just forget the war and all the sadness and have a good time. Although her brain was convincing herself that this would happen, her heart pumped blunt doubt through her veins.

The three best friends stood numbly once they had exited the unforgettable King's Cross. People carrying luggage swarmed around them, blissfully unaware of just how desperately hopeless the moment was. None of the three teenagers looked at each other immediately. All were at a loss of what to say.

Ron looked at the fragile Hermione and the valiant Harry. Hermione was looking forward into the distance, her eyes glazed. Although glazed was her look, the knowledge would always penetrate in the air around her. Every word out of her mouth would always be filled with facts and intelligence, but not necessarily wisdom. That would come to them all in time. Harry, on the other hand, was staring at the ground with a concrete look on his pale face. Bravery Ron could never achieve would always penetrate from Harry. His two best friends had a contributing part in their trio. What did Ron penetrate? What was so special about him? Throughout the stunned silence he searched for an answer.

In what seemed to be an explosion of movement, Hermione grabbed the two others and squeezed them to her like a boa constrictor. Ron expected her to burst into tears and start choking out, "I'll miss you two!" as usual. But this was not so; she remained tearless and silent. She let go after a moment or an eternity, Ron really couldn't decipher. Ron bit his lip against a laugh. How could he be laughing at a moment like this? Nothing was funny, nothing was happy in the world right now.

"I'll see you very soon," Hermione said to Ron, pretending not to notice the restrained grin on his face. She glanced significantly at Harry. "We'll start our mission after the wedding, right?"

"Right… when is the wedding anyway?" Harry asked in a hoarse voice. He had shifted uncomfortably at the word 'mission'. It couldn't be more apparent that he wanted to tie Ron and Hermione to the mermaid statue at the bottom of the lake back at Hogwarts.

"I'll send you an invite or an owl or something," Ron answered, his voice also hoarse from lack of use.

"Right… well, goodbye. I suppose I'll be seeing you soon. Dumbledore wanted me to visit my Aunt and Uncle one last time."

Harry turned on his heel. Ron almost grabbed Harry's sleeve. He wanted to express to Harry that Dumbledore's death wasn't his fault. He wanted to assure Harry it would be fine and they would pull through this mess together. But his hand remained clenched and chalky at his side.

"Are you ready, Ron?" Mrs. Weasley asked her youngest son. She looked up at him, her eyes widening slightly. "You look so … different."

"Good to see you too," Ron said dryly, not looking down at his mother. If he had offered so much as a mere glance, he would have noticed the gray wisps now peppering her bright red hair. He also would have noted the clothes hanging loosely on her much thinner frame. Instead he looked at the woman who he so longed to stay with. He nodded toward her, "Hermione."

"I'll see you soon, Ronald," Hermione said with a small smile, although this did not cover her depression. "See you, Mrs. Weasley."

"You can come to the Burrow at any time, dear. And don't look so grim! I'm sure Hogwarts will be open next year and that you will get to finish off your schooling. Hogwarts has always had a way of recovering from disasters."

"Yes," Hermione said guiltily. "Well I see my parents over there… I'll see you soon."

Ron watched her retreat slowly. Even her bushy hair seemed less buoyant as she crept away. Her parents didn't look much better. It looked as though they had gone without sleep for days. He realized this must have been a result of being informed of the death of Dumbledore and how close Hermione had come to death. He doubted whether or not her parents would have let her return to Hogwarts anyways.

"Are you ready?" Molly asked, placing a plump hand on her son's slumped shoulder.

"Yeah… where's Ginny?"

"Already in the car. We were able to get another one this year… seems the Ministry is trying to keep an eye out for everyone. And with your father's promotion, he's able to get by with more things, you see…"

"That's good," Ron said as they started towards where the car was parked. His trunk was starting to feel heavy in his hand and he longed to use magic to have it just float beside him. With a flicker of happiness he realized he could now legally do magic outside of school. Unfortunately he would never come to an age to permit legal magic use in front of muggles.

When they reached their destination Ron stuffed his luggage in the trunk of the Ministry car.

"Glad to have you two back. When we heard about Dumble— what happened, we were quite worried," Molly said loudly so her voice would carry to the back. "What was the funeral like? We weren't able to come, your father was busy with work and I've been working on the wedding…"

Something about Mrs. Weasley's voice expressed that she had missed the funeral on purpose. Ron fully understood this; going to the funeral would have confirmed that Dumbledore was in actuality no longer living. Seeing his dead body would have hammered the fact into her instead of it sinking in slowly.

"When is the wedding going to be?" Ron asked his mother, avoiding her question about the funeral.

"Four days. I've already sent out the invitations."

"What? That soon?" Ron asked, the should-be surprise absent from his voice.

"Well, yes… Bill is in good enough condition, and well… they wanted to get married as soon as possible," Molly said heavily. Obviously the couple had seen how close Bill had come to death and wanted to get married before another incident like that occurred again. "But really, how was the funeral? You two haven't told me yet."

"It was fine," Ginny said. "Lot of people there."

"I would imagine so," Mrs. Weasley sighed thoughtfully. "Dumbledore knew just about everyone…"

"And that's not an exaggeration," Mr. Weasley piped in. "Had a lot of connections. He was a great man, wasn't he? Smartest wizard of the age, he was."

Everyone fell silent after this small sort of eulogy. It was typical for Mr. Weasley to state the obvious. Of course Dumbledore had been the smartest, of course he had had many connections! To say he was the smartest wizard of the age was quite the understatement. Dumbledore had been the single source of comfort and knowledge in the anarchy of war. Now who would lead and direct the light against the ever growing and engulfing darkness?

Ron blinked quickly and looked out the steamy window. There wasn't much to see since it had already grown dark. The darkness was so much like this war, when he thought about it. In this instance, Dumbledore had been the sun. The sun was gone and showed no signs of reappearing. Of course, they always assumed the sun would rise just as they had assumed Dumbledore would pull them out of trouble and lead them. Now where were they? They were in the dark with only glimpses of a flame to light their way. How could they illumine the shadows with pitiable candles?

They arrived at the Burrow at a late hour. Ginny jerked awake when the car stopped, her cheek peeling away from the side of the door. She and Ron climbed out tiredly and dragged their luggage inside. Ron's body begged him to go to sleep immediately but his mind knew he had to speak with Ginny first.

"We need to talk," he said in a low whisper as they entered their house and ambled upstairs. She gave him a sideways glance as she dragged up her trunk, and then nodded. After all, they had already agreed on this with their eye conversation. Ron took out his wand and muttered, "Locomotor trunks." It felt good to do magic at home and not worry about a letter from the Ministry.

"Thanks," Ginny said quietly. The fact that Ron was legally an adult now made her heart break. She was the last Weasley child in the clan. At least she still had Ron, and he wouldn't be leaving for another year. She followed Ron, who was directing the trunks into her bedroom. He set them down then sat on her creaky bed.

"Aren't you going to unpack?" Ginny inquired.

"No, I have something to talk to you about first."

"I wanted to say a few things myself," Ginny said, smiling reassuringly despite Ron's maddeningly serious expression.

"Okay, then you go first," Ron said hastily. Something about his face and the way he was tapping his fingers on his lap made Ginny quite nervous to hear what he had to say. It was definitely bad news.

"Well, I was thinking on the way back from Hogwarts… we shouldn't let what happened ruin this summer. I mean this is the last summer before you move out, right? We should just try to forget all this mess, I think," she said timidly. "Ron, why do you look so pale? What's wrong?"

Ron shifted uncomfortably, provoking a squeaky noise from the bed. His blue eyes changed from icy bright blue to a slightly darker hue… or maybe that was just a fabrication of her imagination. She leaned against her wall. It had been pink ever since she had been born, in honor of being the first female born in the Weasley clan for generations. She had begged her mum to repaint it to green for the past few years, but for some reason, her mum wouldn't allow her to.

Ron wouldn't answer her; he seemed to be debating for the right way to approach whatever was on his mind.

"What's going on? Oh, let me guess… you and Hermione are an item now?" Ginny prodded.

"No!" Ron said hastily. "No, that's not it."

Ginny grinned, satisfied at the redness of his ears. It was an odd sight, to have his ears be so brilliantly cherry and his face to be so chalky white.

"I'm not going to be here this summer."

"Oh, did you get a job?" Ginny asked curiously. "About time. Mum and Dad are tired of giving you pocket money, it's about time you get a summer job to fend for yourse—"

"No, Ginny. I'm not going to Hogwarts next year," Ron blurted. Why did she have to make this so much more difficult? Her face turned from that of skepticism to outrage.

"Ron! Mum and Dad always said we can't drop out of Hogwarts, there's no way you could get a career good enough, you know that. What the bloody hell are you thinking?"

"No, Ginny. Dumbledore… he gave Harry a very important mission. And me and Hermione are going along," Ron said with utmost difficulty. Ginny's mouth did a funny sort of twitch.

"Very funny," Ginny said.

"I wish I were joking."

Ginny slid very slowly down the wall until her bottom hit the cold floor. She hugged her legs to her chest.

"Ginny, don't be like that! You've got to understand this. I have to stick to Harry; he's my best mate. And chances are he's going to die in this thing. Me and Hermione have to be with him, we have to help him."

"So you're going to be safe and peachy while Harry dies?" Ginny asked hollowly, her eyes resembling melted chocolate.

"I might die, too," he replied bluntly. He watched her face mingle and scrunch up against tears. Her altered face was fruitless in its attempt to restrain tears. Like tiny individual waterfalls they crept down her face. He watched her, poised for any reaction she might make. She got to her feet and faced the door, her hand reaching for the doorknob. Her shaking hand paused on the brass knob. She rested her reddening forehead against the cold wood. She then whispered her parting thoughts with her closest and dearest brother.

"That's the stupidest move you could make, Ronald Weasley. The other team's pawns will sweep the knight off the board. And the queen on the good side will crumble, crumble into fine dust."

Ron's heart started to thud so loudly he feared that her dramatic and abrupt pause was due to hearing it. Her voice didn't sound at all like her own, and she was talking in a bluntly poetic way that suited her manipulation of their metaphor.

She shook her head and let out a shaky laugh of disbelief as she continued.

" Who cares what happens to our king? Who bloody cares? The king has selfishly neglected all players closest to him and can only see the squares to vanquish the other king. But you know what really matters in this game? The knight, Ron. The knight is all that really matters."