"How is it they knew we were there?" Harry asked. It took a few minutes for the adrenaline to fade and everyone's heartbeat to return to normal as they headed back to the main road again.

Hermione cursed herself for thinking that deserted streets would be safer than the main ones, when in reality, it was more of a convenience for the Death Eaters to be able to pick them out from the crowd. Though she knew none of them would care about killing Muggles, she doubted Voldemort would make that much of a scene considering the Muggle world would be after him, too. But he could probably wipe all their memories at once. Or could he? Did any of them really know how strong he was? Manipulative and vile, sure, but how much magic did he know that they didn't? "Maybe you still have the Trace on you?" she suggested. Or maybe they'd been followed. Trying to figure it out was hurting Hermione's brain.

"Can't be," Ron answered quickly. "Trace breaks at 17. It's wizarding law."

17? Hermione gasped, apparently louder than she intended when Ron quickly turned to her.

"What?"

Hermione sighed. "We didn't celebrate your birthday, Harry. Ginny and I… we prepared a cake. We were going to bring it out after the wedding." She'd dismissed the strange look Ginny had given her when she asked if she had planned anything for Harry's birthday.

"Oh… shoot. I haven't. I've been too wrapped up in wedding planning with Mum that I haven't really thought about it," Ginny answered as she was gathering her jewelry up, which was odd, Hermione thought, for someone that fancied him. Now would be the time to lay it all out on the table, right? When everyone else was talking about love - why shouldn't Ginny show hers, too?

"We should make him a cake. Do we have time?" Hermione quickly looked at a clock on the wall, though, like the rest of the clocks at the Weasley's house, it did about everything except tell time.

Ginny nearly laughed. "Do we have time? Hermione, I swear, sometimes you forget that you're a witch."

"Oh," she chuckled, looking down at her hands. "Right."

"I don't even think we have the ingredients to make anything Muggle way anyway. Mum banned it all from the house after Dad tried to take up Muggle cooking a few years ago," Ginny grinned.

"It's a practical skill!" Hermione argued. "Besides, I think Harry would appreciate a Muggle cake for once. Like… if you buy something from the store versus making it at home, you know?" Ginny raised her eyebrow a little. "You've never done that? Made anything?"

"I… I've never really needed to, honestly. Even when I was younger, Mum always used magic to cook. You can still mess up, mind you, but most of the time it worked out all right and tasted fine."

"But…" Hermione thought for a moment, trying to come up with the best comparison, "something we have at school compared to when she makes it, right?"

"Oh, well, yes," Ginny answered. "It's a lot better when Mum makes it. Reminds me of home."

"Exactly! That's the difference between buying something at the store or using magic to make it for Muggle-borns. When you put in the work, get your hands dirty, end up with flour all over yourself because it's inevitable when you're baking… you put a little heart into it, you know? A little-"

"Love?"

Hermione flushed. "Um… yes. Something like that."

"I thought so." A sad smile crossed Ginny's face. "I'm going to go see if anyone needs help and then we can make something for Harry. I know we're going to be having wedding cake, but I don't think anyone will complain about more."

Hermione found herself a little flustered again by the memory. While she knew what she meant by love, the way Ginny responded had her second guessing her own feelings. No, she cared about Harry, obviously. Her best friend. And yes, she loved him, but like that? No, she didn't. Even though Ron was out of the equation, that didn't mean she didn't still fancy him. She hadn't thought about it much until now, but the fact that she was more worried about turning away while they were changing so her eyes didn't wander too much towards Ron should tell her all she needed to know. Or did that mean she didn't care as much as if she looked at Harry?

"Hermione, honestly, I appreciate the thought, but really, given the fact that we were almost killed by a couple of Death Eaters a few minutes ago…"

Hermione took a breath at Harry's voice and the mention of Death Eaters that almost killed them. "Right... perspective." That was what she needed right now: perspective. Who she fancied didn't matter in the grand scheme of things, nor right now, when it would be just the three of them. Traveling alone. Her. Her love interest. And her best friend, who apparently everyone but her thought she was into. Perfect.

"We need to get off the streets. Get somewhere safe," Ron stated, unable to keep his eyes off the swarm of people around them. Hermione could tell it was making him nervous; it was making her nervous, too.

"But where?" Hermione asked. The tent was a last resort and it wouldn't help them solve anything. They had no idea where the real locket was - that was priority number one. Diagon Alley would be swarming with Death Eaters, no doubt, and they couldn't go back to Hogwarts. They couldn't go back to the Burrow.

"What about Grimmauld Place?" Harry suggested. "At least we'll have some supplies and a place to sleep. And it'll be hidden."

"That's perfect, Harry. I can't believe I didn't think of that." Grimmauld Place would have plenty of books, too, besides the ones she brought with her; maybe they could find whoever R.A.B. was.

Reluctantly, they moved into another alley out of sight. Hermione was anxious, but they couldn't Disapparate in the middle of the street. Harry took her hand and she took Ron's. Then they were gone.

Grimmauld Place seemed darker than Harry remembered. Not that it had any reason not to be, but with just the three of them standing on the doorstep and the knowledge that there was no one waiting for them inside, it didn't feel like they should be there. But they didn't have any other option; the Order would know how to get there if needed, Muggles couldn't see it, and he was sure Moody had placed enough wards on the place to scare anybody off that tried to get in.

The creaking of the front door echoed loudly through the hall as they slowly made their way inside. As Ron closed it behind them, the lights on the wall became brighter, showing them down the hallway. It was too quiet, and with Harry's heightened senses from being on edge, he could hear Hermione's quick breaths behind him. He worried if the Death Eaters had gotten in here too somehow, and were waiting to ambush them, but the thought was cut short as dust began swirling on the floor a few feet in front of them, coalescing into the shape of Dumbledore that was hurling straight for them, reaching out for Harry.

Harry took a couple steps back in instinct and Hermione screamed as it moved through them, blowing their hair around with a strong gust before settling back to the floor. Taking a deep breath, Harry reveled in the quiet again. A memory returned of Voldemort doing just that when he'd gotten the Sorcerer's Stone first year, and it sent a chill down his spine.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked, letting go of Hermione, who had pressed into him, but quickly moved away once she realized the threat had passed.

"Probably Mad-Eye's idea," she answered, "in case Snape decided to come snooping."

Something clanged somewhere in the house, and they held their breath again. They'd never get to rest at this rate.

Bravely, Hermione was the one to step forward and draw her wand. "Homenum Revelio." Once nothing came back, she relaxed, but only barely. "We're alone."

"Then what's that noise?"

"I don't know. But whatever it is, it's not human."

"We should be safe, then."

Harry nodded. "Let's try to get some rest, yeah? There are plenty of rooms here."

"We should sleep in the living room," Hermione suggested, to which Ron groaned. "I know it's not comfortable, but I don't think splitting up is a good idea."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll grab a couple blankets and pillows from upstairs."

"Be careful," Hermione reminded him.

Once Ron was upstairs and Hermione was alone with Harry, she couldn't stop Ginny's words from coming back again, now that she had a chance to breathe. She cursed herself for subconsciously keeping it at the front of her mind. Or maybe it was just the quiet that made her realize how tired she was.

"These couches don't look comfortable at all," she commented as they rearranged the furniture a little bit closer. "There's only two."

Hermione snorted, but she wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment of thinking about her sharing a couch with one of them or the humor of them sharing a couch with each other.

Nevertheless, Harry looked up at her with a grin. "What?"

"I was just thinking about you and Ron trying to fit onto one of those. I mean, I know you're close, but-"

"No way," Harry laughed. "I figured you'd want to share with him."

Hermione's smile fell a little. "I wouldn't do that to him. God, can you imagine how awkward that would be?"

"We should probably take one, then."

"What?" Hermione answered quickly, wondering if she heard him right.

"Ron can have the floor," he clarified, "and we'll each take a couch. Doubt it'll be comfortable with how tall he is anyway."

"Oh. Right. Sorry, I thought you said…"

You've been looking at her like that for years...

Harry wanted to slap Ginny's words out of his head. He couldn't read Hermione's expression - she was good at that when she wanted to be.

"Hope this is enough." Ron's voice broke the awkward silence as he carried down an armful of pillows and blankets. His eyes looked between the two couches. "Guess I'm getting the floor, huh?"

"Sorry," Hermione answered sincerely, taking a pillow and blanket of her own and heading to one of the couches. "We figured they're a little short for you."

"We can figure out something else in the morning - move beds if we have to. Just for tonight," Harry said. They hadn't even lasted one night and the sleeping arrangements were already awkward. He couldn't imagine going to a hotel or anything; what would they even ask for? Three twins?

"It's all right. It means I can make sure you two don't go sneaking off in the middle of the night," Ron smirked, throwing a couple blankets and pillows down onto the ground while Harry grabbed the rest of the pile.

Hermione rolled her eyes playfully before pulling toothbrushes and toothpaste from her beaded bag and handing them to the boys. "Wherever we're sleeping, I'm not dealing with morning breath. Or rotting teeth."

"Yes, Mum," Ron teased, but took the toothbrush anyway.

They took turns getting ready for bed before sliding into the respective sleeping spots. Hermione had nearly drifted off when loud snoring from the floor woke her with a start. After calming down, she rolled over to face Harry. "Are you still awake?" she whispered.

"Mmm," he responded without opening his eyes, seemingly not nearly as bothered as she was.

"You're used to this, aren't you?"

"Past six years."

"Ugh. Don't know how you can stand it."

"You know, Hermione, there are spells that can help with that," Harry smirked.

Hermione sighed with relief. "You're brilliant, Harry, thank you." She quickly pulled out her wand and muttered, "Silencio" before putting it back. "You and Ginny both."

"What?"

"Make me feel stupid for forgetting I have spells sometimes," she laughed.

Harry finally opened his eyes to look at her. "Hermione, do you know how many times I forget I can do things? We didn't grow up with it, so we're trained to deal with everything the Muggle way."

"That makes sense. Though I forget you didn't grow up with it, either."

"It's just because I'm the Chosen One," Harry grinned. "I'm so famous that every time I breathe, magic's involved."

Hermione shook her head with a smile. "Shut up and go to sleep."

"Don't forget to turn the volume back on before Ron wakes up."