Wow! How long has it been? Uni has started 3 weeks ago, so I guess I haven't updated in about a month? I am so sorry! Uni drains a person of all their energy and creativity. Blame the assignments. Anyway, a short chapter here and there and we'll be closer to the end of the story. Once again, thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. And Shiegurl, thank you for squeezing this story into your schedule. I know how incredibly busy you are. Everyone else, enjoy!

The Three Sided Triangle

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling's creations, not mine.

There are some things that a person never shares with another person; no matter how close the relationship is between the two, secrets so dark, they should never be allowed to consume the light in other people's lives.

Harry Potter was the boy who lived, revered by the inhabitants of the Wizarding World (well, most of the Wizarding World anyway) for something he did not even remember doing, worshipped for something he desperately wished he did not have to do in the first place. Professor Trelawney's prophecy weighed heavily on his mind.

Ron and Hermione had never found out about the contents of the prophecy, Harry never mentioned it and they had not thought that it was a thing of major importance to pursue after they returned from the Department of Mysteries in fifth year. The prophecy was a secret that Harry was not yet ready to accept back then, let alone deal with his friends' worries and concerns. He suspected that their reactions to that little piece of information would be far more interesting than when they first realised that a mass-murdering maniac from Azkaban was after him.

Harry stared unseeingly at his own reflection in the window, his scar streaked across the night sky like a bolt of lightning. The prophecy and his fate, having weighed heavily on his mind since that fatefulday, had steadily clamped down on him over the years, suffocating him as the days passed. It was threatening to tighten a noose around his neck, increasing his desperation for any kind of release. Everyday was filled with the dread that everything would finally end with him washing his hands in Voldemort's blood, or with the Death Eaters toasting the Dark Lord with his.

Now, however, he had accepted the fact that Voldemort and his fate were tangled together in a bitter, intricate web, neither one of them capable of leaving the other alone until one of them dies. Having accepted that, Harry was determined to be the one to live, and to do that, he needed the combined wisdom and experience of his friends. They had gotten each other out of death-defying situations before, and Harry did not doubt that the three of them could do it again, with some subtle assistance from Dumbledore, of course. They had shared his burdens before, and Harry knew he needed to divulge the contents of the prophecy to his friends before he crushed himself with the oppressive silence. Imagine what they would do when I tell them about the prophecy, Harry smiled inwardly to himself, Hermione would start quoting books and Ron would say something suitably silly. They always have and they always will. Having decided on a course of action, Harry relaxed into his chair.

"Bloody hell, Harry! Why didn't you tell me? I'm supposed to be your best friend!" Ron whispered fiercely into the musty silence of the Hogwarts library. "It's too late now and Hermione's not here. How am I supposed to hand in two rolls of parchment on Animagus transformation by tomorrow?" Ron paused in the middle of his tirade to take in a breath of fresh air and looked accusingly at Harry. "You could've reminded me!" he huffed and rocked exasperatedly in his chair.

Harry did not answer him. Instead he waited, but the silence stretched. He blinked in confusion. Something was missing, but he could not place his wand on what it was.

Ron spoke again. "Wish Hermione was here," he said wistfully. "She would never allow me to forget about my homework."

Hermione. That's right. What was missing from Ron's sudden explosion was Hermione's ritual reprimand. What was missing was Hermione.

Harry had long ago realised that what drew him to Ron and Hermione was the vestiges of his own personality that he could find in them. Ron was the silly, humorous friend that he could count on to egg him on when breaking the school rules, while Hermione was his voice of reason that balanced Ron's fondness for recklessness. Together, they complemented each other and provided Harry with the support that he needed to deal with the problems life had chosen to throw his way.

Hermione was not here now, and Harry had no idea how to get her back. Ron alone he knew could not handle the gravity of the prophecy; one of them alone was not as strong as the two of them combined. Besides, they needed each other to discuss the matter behind his back and rehearse the conversation that they would subsequently have with him. It had happened before, back when they still thought that Sirius was a criminal and they were trying to prevent him from hunting down his Godfather. The three of them needed to deal with this together. He would wait for Hermione to return before he say anything.

Hermione, come home soon. We need you here. I need you here.

The Dark Lord's eyes glittered angrily, two crimson jewels flashing brightly in a sea of darkness. He was not pleased, not pleased at all. The Mudblood that he thought could be both bait and weapon was still missing, and was now out of his grasp because she no longer belonged to his servant. Of course, he could always come up with other ways to trap Potter, but involving the Mudblood would be a lot more entertaining. Severus was a fool to let her get away, and the Dark Lord did not suffer fools.

"Malfoy, Bella," he hissed. "Take the fool away. Do with him as you please, but let him live. I might still have a use for him."

Two figures stepped away from the mass of dark masks and cloaks and bowed in unison. The figure crouched on the ground struggled to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes. "You are g-gracious, my lord," Severus stumbled. He struggled to control the trembling in his aching muscles. "T-thank you."

Voldemort did not even spare a glance for the Potions Master of Hogwarts as he left in a swish of his robes, setting off a series of popping sounds as the rest of the Death Eaters obeyed the unspoken dismissal. Severus looked up in resignation to see the gleam in Malfoy's eyes and the maniacal expression in Bellatrix Lestrange's. This promised to be a very long night.