Unresolved Differences

There was tenseness in the atmosphere that Ron could sense, but couldn't put his finger on. It was damnably frustrating. He had just walked into the sitting room that was connected to his room, Hermione's and Harry's at the small inn they had found in Godric's Hollow. Ron surveyed the darkening room that was filled with dark leather wingback chairs that he found immensely uncomfortable. Even the fire in the grate seemed to have lost its cheerful luster as Ron approached one of the armchairs and sat down in it. Too busy staring at the diminished fire, Ron did not notice the other figure curled up in one of the chairs next to him.

Hermione's legs were tucked up under her and her head was resting on the side of the chair as she gazed off harshly into space. Ron started a little when he saw her, but relaxed again without a single remonstrance.

"Where's Harry gone off to?" he asked after a short period. He waited for the response that never came. He looked over to Hermione, who merely shrugged and adjusted herself so that she became even more cramped into the chair than she had been. Ron watched, puzzled as she withdrew from his question. She was wearing faded jeans and a gray sweater that covered her hands, especially when she was concealing them within her substantial sleeves as just now, gripping the hems tenaciously. She still wasn't looking at him.

Ron no more comprehended her attitude than he did Golpalott's Third Law from Potions class.

"What's the matter?" he asked, not much expecting a response. She had been like this for a few weeks now, but he never broached the subject in case she was feeling hostile and had her wand in her back pocket or something.

Hermione laughed in her throat and shook her head at the fire.

"A lot is wrong, Ron." Unconsciously, he stood up and moved closer to her.

"Have I done something?" he asked hesitantly. She looked up and stared at him, and a smile gradually waxed across her features. Ron admired it for a moment, before she looked away and he was shaken out of his reverie.

"I'm glad some things haven't changed – your naivety being one of them."

"What, Hermione?" Ron demanded. He was running out of patience with this new attitude of hers. She glared at him for a moment and then stood up.

"Have you ever stopped to consider what's going to happen when all this comes to a head?" she asked him furiously. Her hair was waving back and forth in its ponytail.

"Yeah, I have actually! I'm not that thick, Hermione!" he stood up now too. By and large, she ignored his last comment.

"Have you ever thought that maybe we could all die in this fight? Not just Harry, but everyone we know and care for is at risk! I can't believe I'm the only one who ever wants to talk about this possibility… We have to be prepared for anything, you know. It could come any time now, now that we've found two of the four missing Horcruxes -"

She was getting breathless and pacing the room as Ron watched her incredulously.

"Look, will you come off it?" he asked her, stretching out with his long arm and grabbing hers from the other side of a chair. "We don't talk about it because we don't want to be so bloody pessimistic all the time!" he shouted. She glared at him. He wasn't sure if it was because of the indirect insult, or the swearing.

"I'm fed up with this, Ronald." She paced the room quickly and ferociously in several short jerky movements.

"Aw, come on Mione! Don't be like this!" he yelled at her. She turned around to glare at him once more before slamming the door in his face. "DAMNIT HERMIONE!" He twisted around in anger and knocked over a chair. Then Ron collapsed on one of the ottomans in frustration. A few moments later, he heard a faint pounding coming from downstairs that sounded like a broom was being jabbed at the ceiling. Ron held his face in his hands and sighed throatily.

Harry returned from the cemetery only a few minutes after this, and was puzzled to find the innkeeper and his wife huddled at the front desk whispering something about the suite upstairs. Harry was about to ascend the stairway when it registered that he, Ron and Hermione were occupying "the suite upstairs." He backtracked several steps and faced the innkeeper with a curious look on his face.

"What's going on upstairs?" he asked cautiously.

"Bangin' and screamin' and I don' know what else!" the innkeeper said. Harry quickly raced up the stairs, expecting the worst. "Tell those two to keep their figh'in' down! They're disturbin' the rest of us!" the innkeeper shouted after him. Harry threw open the door to their common room and found Ron seated on an ottoman next to an overturned chair in an exasperated position.

"What's happened?" Harry asked. "Is everything alright?"

"Oh, just brilliant," Ron said sarcastically.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked eyeing her door suspiciously.

"She's in there… in a strop!" Ron added bitterly.

"What's it about this time?" Harry asked, seating himself. Knowing his best friends fairly well, this explanation was likely to take a while.

Hermione had not thrown herself onto the gray quilt lying neatly across the bed, nor had she burst into tears as she had fully anticipated doing. She was listening for Ron in the next room. Her back was ramrod straight and her arms were folded across her chest, but her ear was slightly inclined towards the commons. She had never heard him yell like that before.

Staring out the window at what was essentially blackness, Hermione felt herself relaxing. She had heard Harry come in and the two boys begin talking. They never once considered what she must have felt, being the only girl on this crusade. She had tried to keep her emotions in check, to be patient with them, since they seemed to only have one object on their minds. Time and time again, she ruminated, they would be discussing their next move, or where the next Horcrux might be, when it would hit her hard that they all might not live to see the next day, much less the next Horcrux. The newspapers were littered with articles about tortured, Imperiused and murdered victims of Voldemort… people they knew. Hermione had been thinking about this quite a bit. She didn't want to fall asleep at night, thinking that it wasn't impossible for Death Eaters to come during the night and – Well she wasn't going to think too deeply about the possibilities involved there. She clung to her pillow so tightly that her arms cramped up and she would stare out of the window at the pitch black night from whatever hotel or inn they were staying at, wondering, waiting for that sound to tip her off… She knew her paranoia got a little out of hand at times, but that was what she couldn't help.

She couldn't bear feeling that scared a moment longer; especially when so many things were still unresolved. She needed her strength, both for matters outside and inside of herself.

These things were running in and out of her mind while she sat stiffly on her bed in the dark, trying to make out what Harry and Ron were discussing in the next room. The one thought, however, that tended override all the others was "I've never heard him so upset."

"I'm going to go check on her."

"No, Ron, leave her alone. She'll come out eventually." Harry leaned back in his armchair and watched the fire. Ron was just itching to get up and go knock on her door. He had never been so upset about anyone's behavior before. This simply wasn't like Hermione. She never caved in to pressure like this before.

"I don't think she is going to come out. She's just going to sit there being bloody stubborn!" he fumed. Then in one violent motion, Ron had stood up, his remarkable height being shown off in the low-ceilinged room. He strode over to Hermione's door and knocked on it. "Hermione! I want you to come out here!"

It took a few minutes, but eventually a very sleepy looking Hermione emerged through a crack in the door. Her hair was slightly tousled and her eyes were squinting up against the light. When Ron saw how haggard she was, how sleep-deprived and miserable she looked he opened the door gently and patted her back slightly. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and eventually he closed his around her tiny back. Her head barely came up to his chin, and her hands were grabbing the back of his sweater as though she were in some sort of intense pain. She raised her head a moment later and looked at Ron, then at the mysteriously empty commons. Ron noted her red eyes, and the creases in her forehead. She sniffed.

"Ron, I don't want to lose you two. I'm so afraid that… I've never been more frightened of this in all our years together," she whispered to him, looking up awkwardly into his face.

"Is that what all this has been about?" Ron asked with all his natural ignorance and indelicacy of nature. Hermione turned away from him and wiped her face with her sleeve.

"I'm going to try and get some sleep," she said, not looking at him. Ron hesitated as to what to do next. He felt badly for her, but he somehow knew that he couldn't do anything to make the situation better. In fact, he thought, with a lowering of his shoulders, he'd probably make it worse.

Harry had retreated to the safety of the kitchen, where he was perusing the refrigerator in hopes of finding something to keep him occupied and out of the room for a good half hour at least. Finding some cold chicken that looked promising, Harry hiked up his pajama pants leg and sat down at the rustic old kitchen table. The moonlight was drifting through the large window and he could see bits of the lawn outside. Harry heard the floorboards upstairs begin to creak and wondered what Ginny was doing right now. Harry liked to think of her as sleeping peacefully at the Burrow. The only way Harry had been able to hear about her were through Ron's letters from home, which, although there was usually a mention or two of Ginny's doings in them, never seemed like enough. He wanted to know that she was alright, and not just safe from the Death Eaters, but also that she hadn't given into brooding as he had done himself.

In the first few weeks, Hermione's enthusiasm for their task hadn't been so depleted, and she took to asking Harry what he was thinking about and tried to offer him some advice for moving on – trying to boost his morale. Lately, however, Harry had been left to fend for himself. It looked like Hermione was the one who needed the boost more than Harry. He knew that Ginny wasn't given to sadness, so he had a relatively safe conjecture that Ginny wasn't suffering as much as Hermione had been recently.

Eating slowly and surely, he thought he heard a door close upstairs. Harry thought he'd better give it a few more minutes. There was so much between Ron and Hermione that it took them a long time to even come close to understanding what they were rowing about. And if they had made up… well then, Harry didn't want to make that any more awkward than it need be.

Turning his thoughts away from these things, Harry thought about the visit they would pay the cemetery again tomorrow. He had scoped out the location this afternoon, and it chilled him more than a cemetery was wont to. Harry searched his brain hard for any mention of Godric Gryffindor or Rowena Ravenclaw. What did they have that could have been made into a Horcrux? Harry frowned into his empty plate, and coming up with nothing, made a slow retreat back upstairs.

The sun was peering through the mist when Hermione woke up the next day, feeling somewhat refreshed. She knew, deep inside, without being able to put her finger on it, that something was better. She was determined to do what she could today and help as much as possible. She got dressed with more haste than usual, and started a fire in the grate. Ron came out a few minutes or so later, and she greeted him with a smile. He smiled back at her and ran his fingers through his messy hair.

"I'm feeling better today, Ron. I want to try and figure out the next Horcrux this morning."

"That's a pretty tall order, wouldn't you say?" he asked her, sitting down on one of the chairs and leaning over to look down at her on the floor, curled up with a wooden box in her hands. She lifted the lid with anticipation. It was almost as though it was challenging her, and she received a great thrill from it. It was almost like waking up reborn, she thought, breathing satisfyingly through her mouth and suppressing a smile.

"I think we can manage it," she said, looking at Ron's smooth freckled face and his sleepy blue eyes. She put her hand on his face affectionately, and he grabbed her hand, grinning at her. Everything seemed to have turned around for her completely in one evening. Harry chose this moment to come in, looked as disheveled as Ron and frowning slightly at Hermione on the floor.

"What are you doing with that?" he asked her, sitting down opposite to Ron, who had quickly released Hermione when he heard Harry's door begin to open. Hermione blushed slightly, wondering if it was from Harry's question or Ron in general. She opened the box slowly and gazed at the goblet inside with the badger on it split in half. Hermione herself had destroyed this particular Horcrux, remembering a spell that neither Harry nor Ron had remembered learning. She pulled out another item from the box, a heavy locket with an S engraved on it. None of them had thought that a Horcrux would be lurking somewhere in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, but nevertheless, there it had rested, and now that was destroyed as well.

"Well, I'm feeling better today, and I thought that perhaps we'd have another go at trying to figure out what the next one could be!" Harry and Ron looked at each other and shook their heads in the usual manner whenever Hermione wanted to think. "Well what's the matter with that? You've both agreed that we have to keep moving. So I want to get started!" Hermione looked at them with a stubborn, angry look on her face. Ron started laughing at her, and Harry soon joined in. Hermione began to smirk slightly, and then stood up still clutching the box. "Well come on! Get dressed the pair of you!"

Harry stood up and retreated to his room still smiling, and Ron sat there watching her. Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"What?" she asked, her head cocked to one side. He just smiled at her and went off to his room. When he reached his door, he turned around.

"Glad you're feeling better, Mione." Her cheeks glowed red and she turned back down to the cup and locket, needing to focus and finding it difficult.

They all filed back into their room later that night, Ron heaving a sigh and Harry drifting vaguely into his room and closing his door. The mission had not been a success because they had no idea what they were looking for. Hermione's enthusiasm had been contagious earlier in the day, especially because they had been feeling a lack of it lately. Hermione was now flopping back into her usual chair by the fire and visibly withdrawing from notice. Ron stared at her for a few minutes. He looked quickly at Harry's door, making sure it was shut, and silently put an Imperturbable Charm on it. Hermione looked up as she heard the effect of the spell.

"What did you do that for, Ron?" she asked him bewildered. Ron frowned slightly and put his wand back in his pocket. He approached Hermione, who was still looking alarmed.

"Something's wrong. You won't talk unless Harry's out of the room, so… tell me," he said quietly nonetheless, leaning with one elbow on his knee in her direction. Ron was determined to find out what was bothering her. He had to fix this.

Hermione looked at him. He had on a thick woolen sweater that looked like it had been fabricated by Mrs. Weasley's talented hands. His hair was somewhere between long and short and spiking up in places in an oddly appealing manner. He looked fresh, almost newly-unwrapped, and she felt an inexplicable pull towards him as he leaned towards her. Hermione looked at the door anxiously.

"Did you really put an Imperturbable –?"

"Yeah, I did. Out with it," he ordered.

"Ron, I can't stand this suspense any longer. This mission to find the Horcruxes… it's just too much. I feel like it's beating me down. I can't solve it!" her eyes welled up slightly, and Ron put a hesitant hand on hers.

"Listen, Hermione – if Dumbledore couldn't figure it out, then you don't have anything to blame yourself for, do you? You're only 18 and he was… well, I don't know how old Dumbledore was, but I'll guess it was pretty ancient." Hermione chuckled a little. "We can't do this without you, Hermione. Look at the way you handled destroying that cup!" Hermione smiled in that watery manner she had, and Ron looked momentarily relieved, but suddenly she collapsed into a frown again.

"It's so much more than that, though!" she wailed.

"Like what?" Ron bellowed, standing up to display his full, considerable height.

"The idea that we could all just –" she gestured wildly in the air with her hands. Ron stared at her for a few moments before laughing.

"You've been a witch for half your life, and that's how you describe magic!" he repeated the hand gesture, laughing some more.

"Listen, Ron, I don't need you mocking me while I'm in the middle of a panic attack!"

"I'm not mocking you; I just think you're funny. And, personally, I don't think you're having a panic attack."

"Oh, really?" she said sarcastically. She crossed her arms tightly around her chest. They were both standing now. Ron was sauntering over to her.

"Really, I do. I think I know what's bothering you," he said smiling. She cowered a little at Ron's confidence. Usually, she was the one with the plan. She laughed nervously.

"What's bothering me then? You apparently know everything about me." She looked at him challengingly. The effect wasn't much, however, once he was close enough to tower over her. He stared down at her, smirking. She backed up a little bit instinctively. He moved with her, never more than a few inches away.

"You're afraid we're all going to be separated before you can… finish something. Is that right?"

She nodded. She couldn't bring herself to speak. Little did Ron know that what she wanted to finish was him. He looked around the room, still towering above her.

"I'm guessing it doesn't have to do with Horcruxes."

She shook her head. He smiled more broadly.

"And it isn't your deep, unrequited love for Harry?" Hermione shook her head emphatically. "Well if it isn't one of those things… then what is it?" She was flat against the wall now, and trying to edge out sideways. "You aren't going anywhere until we settle this, Mione." He had put his arms on the wall so she couldn't get out without ducking down and escaping under his arm.

"I'm not too fussed about the Horcruxes just yet, and I am most definitely NOT in love with Harry. Let's just leave it at that and go about our business." She tried pushing against his torso, but he wouldn't budge.

"Hermione, I don't want to see you that upset anymore – I can't fix it. At least not unless I know what's bothering you! So out with it! Fix this, Hermione, whatever the bloody hell it is that's bothering you!" He fixed her with his angry stare. She hesitated for a moment. This proximity was too much for her.

"Well, it's not exactly bothering me… It's just… Well, Ron, you wanted to know. It's you." Nobody made a noise for a full minute.

"How do you mean?" he asked, still leaning over her, pinning her to the wall, practically.

"YOU! Me and you!" she shouted, gesturing wildly between them and grateful for the Imperturbable Charm. "We're unresolved… We're not finished."

"Well, what can I do about it?" He was obviously puzzled. Hermione stared at him with familiar exasperation.

"Do I have to explain everythi-" she was cut off. Ron had leaned in a very short distance and was brushing her lips with his. One hand came down off the wall and gently touched her waist as their mouths opened slightly. He pulled away from her ever so slightly after a while. He looked in her eyes – they were so close to his.

"Did that fix it?" he asked. She was still looking rather stunned.

"Well I suppose – I mean to say, that is what could be construed as fixing it… I didn't mean to-" she was silenced again. Ron massaged her mouth with his tongue, holding on to her by her waist, and slipping his arms around to her back. He drew back again, aggravatingly.

"How about now?"

All she did was make a sort of half groan – half sigh. He straightened up slightly.

"Damnit, Hermione!" He grabbed her by the waist and pulled up to his mouth again. He was holding her so tightly, it almost hurt. When he put her down a few minutes later she collapsed into the nearest chair.

"I think that one did it," she said faintly.

"Good," he said running his fingers through his hair. He paced around the room several times repeating the word "good" before grabbing her hand and hoisting her out of the chair. "Sorry, but that didn't do it for me." He had to hunch down this time to get to her. "We're going to have to get you a footstool," he laughed. She slapped his arm. "Ow! I see you're back to your usual self."

"Just because we snogged doesn't mean I still can't call you an insensitive wart!" she wagged a finger at him, and he looked slightly appalled.

"Anything you say, just as long as you stop imitating my mother." She smirked at him and waved her wand at Harry's door. A few seconds later, he wandered out of it.

"You two have been awfully quiet out here," Harry said, looking puzzled. "What have you been up to?"

"Just sitting here, really." Hermione looked at him innocently. "Well I'm completely exhausted. I think I'll turn in." She looked at Ron as she walked to her room. He couldn't help but smile at her. Harry caught that involuntary action. Once Hermione's door was closed, he walked over to Ron.

"What's been going on?" he said, hitting Ron's arm.

"Huh? Oh, nothing really. I'm sorry Harry; I'm pretty tired myself… I think I'll just-" he was walking over to Hermione's door. The action wasn't lost on Harry.

"Ron – that's Hermione's room."

"I know. There's just one more difference I'd like to settle with her before uh, sleeping." He wandered into her room, and shut the door.

Harry heard laughter before every sound coming from the room was completely shut off. He could only shake his head and think, "About time they resolved those differences."