A little bit turned into days. Harry's resolve to do something special for her birthday was quickly diminishing as she nearly glued herself to Ron's side, laughing way too much at anything remotely funny he said, sitting next to him at the table for every meal, and ganging up with him to duel Harry when they'd practice. It was petty of her to do something like this when he'd been telling the truth. He didn't do anything wrong, and he wasn't about to apologize for it. But he knew it was also petty of him to care this much. She didn't belong to him, no matter how much the horcrux told him otherwise, but he was quick to notice that Hermione did hang around Ron more when he had it on, as if she knew it wasn't the same when he didn't.

Ron seemed to revel in it like he was with Lavender all over again, a hand on her or near her almost at all times, whispering between them when they thought Harry wasn't listening. He barely spoke to Harry, mostly because every time he did, Harry couldn't help but give him short answers or none at all, not wanting to say something else he would regret. He barely spoke to Hermione, either, which was more frustrating for him, considering how close they'd always been. He didn't want her to get hurt by Ron, but at the same time, anything he said against her actions would be dismissed and taken as overreacting, so he couldn't win. And Harry just had to watch. One particular afternoon they'd stopped by a lake, Ron was skipping rocks and Hermione had approached him, asking if he could teach her. Out of earshot, Harry scoffed. Like she cared. It was kind of amusing, though, watching how bad she was. Every rock she attempted just sank immediately with a plop, and Ron just laughed. He watched them for a little bit, but had to turn away when Ron decided to take Hermione's arm and show her, nearly enveloping her in his chest to get her into the right position and arm motions.

Ignoring them had seemed to work with getting his jealousy in order - if he didn't see it, he didn't have to worry about it - but it didn't stop him from missing Hermione. After everything that had happened between them, the looks she still gave him when their eyes met for a split second before one of them looked away, and the fact that emotionally isolating himself was probably the stupidest thing he could do, he realized that whatever was going to happen between them would, and he didn't want to spend the rest of the war detached from her. So, by the time Hermione's birthday rolled around, she sat up in bed and opened her eyes to a cake Harry had woken up early to make for her in an attempt to put everything behind them.

It seemed to work. Her eyes lit up, filling with tears she quickly wiped away. "Harry, you made this all by yourself?"

"Well… it was from a box, but yeah. I hope it tastes okay."

She flung her arms around his neck so fast he had to move the cake to the side to keep it from getting squashed between them. Ron quickly moved to grab it and put it back on the table, letting Harry hug her back. She seemed to melt in his arms, and he wouldn't have been surprised if she pulled him into bed with her, but that may have just been wishful thinking.

"Thank you, Harry," she muttered into his neck.

He just rubbed her back gently. "Happy birthday, Hermione."

"Hey, we've got a message from Dad!" Ron interrupted as he sat the cake on the table. "He said happy birthday, too!"

Hermione pulled away from Harry with a grin. "He knows my birthday?"

"Well… I may have told him it was today."

Hermione shook her head with a smile, wiping her eyes and letting Harry step away so she could get out of bed.

"Harry…" She wasn't sure exactly what to say, but it was enough to convey an apology for the way she had been treating him, and Harry was a little proud that she felt bad. She got caught up in Ron's attention, and she still was, if she was being honest. It was nice, and even in the past week, her want for Harry had greatly diminished, which made her question how real it was in the first place. But it didn't help that he'd been ignoring her.

He just shook his head. "It's your birthday. Take it easy today, all right?"

They moved to the table where an open magazine was sitting, some of the letters on the page rearranged into "haPPy BiRThdAy heRmiOne" in various sizes and fonts. Ron had remembered that his dad always got a copy of Spellbound every month, the wizarding magazine. Hermione had brought a couple copies with her to read some of the stories in, and, with a little bit of research and a lot of trials, they were able to get hers connected with one of Arthur's. Ron had been using it a lot lately, checking in on his family and everybody there, and it was nice to be able to talk to someone outside of their trio, even if it was through cryptic messages. They still were careful about revealing too much in case it ever made it into the wrong hands, but they let the Weasleys know they were safe at least, and still together.

She replied back with a thanks. "Oh!" she exclaimed before sending another message.

"What?"

"I asked how Crookshanks was," Hermione grinned. "I know Molly's taking good care of him now that Ginny's back at school, but I wish I could see him again."

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance, and Harry nodded.

"Well, actually," Ron began, "we picked out something else for you in that Muggle village, remember? While we were at the store. Close your eyes."

She did, and held out her hands. Ron quickly retrieved the stuffed animal from behind his bed where he'd hid it. He took a second to admire the grin and excitement on her face before handing it to her. "Okay."

Hermione hugged the cat as soon as she opened her eyes. "Oh my God, Ron! He looks just like Crookshanks! Thank you!" She wrapped her arms tightly around Ron, and when she pulled away, Harry could have sworn she was about to kiss him. And for a moment, he thought maybe she should and Ron would realize how he felt. But he didn't want her getting hurt on her birthday of all days, so he was glad she didn't.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing, which they realized they didn't do often. The lessons were postponed, games were played, and laughter filled the tent again well past nightfall.

A couple weeks later, though, morale seemed to be fading again. Ron and Hermione had been… surprisingly close still, though Hermione occasionally did gravitate towards Harry when Ron had become distant, which was about half the time lately. But he caught her staring at Ron a lot when he wasn't looking, especially when he was laying in bed at night, listening to the radio, and Hermione was in her bed across the tent with tired eyes. Even she wasn't able to keep his spirits up anymore. He'd been doing it more, while Harry and Hermione were researching or bouncing ideas off of each other, none of which of course actually amounted to anything. Talking to Arthur once in a while gave them peace, but not much luck. It had been months with no clues to go off of, no leads, and no hope of this war ever ending. He didn't blame Ron for secluding himself - anyone could go mad in their situation, even with Hermione's attention.

And with that attention, even passively, on Ron, Harry felt starved for Hermione's touch. He'd gotten so used to it while they were at Hogwarts, pretending, and now seeing it all given so freely to Ron was getting on his nerves more than usual, even when Ron had the locket. Funnily enough, lately, he had barely even felt any different with it on or off, which he knew wasn't good. But he was getting frustrated with the lack of progress, and feeling angry at Dumbledore for being dead, of all things. He would have given him clues. He would have found a way to communicate with them and make this easier. Now, as October came around, they weren't any closer to finishing than when they started three months ago.

"Hermione, I need a haircut," he finally announced one night after he came out of the bathroom from a shower, desperately pushing it out of his eyes. He figured the stress would make it fall out, not get longer. Hermione's had gotten longer, too, and she had it up more often. But that was easier than trying to ask one of them to do something with it. "Do you think you could…? It's getting like it was in fourth year, and I know you hated that."

"I didn't hate it!" She looked up from her book with a nervous gleam in her eyes. "I thought it looked… fine. But if you want me to cut it, I suppose I can do my best. Ron? What about you?" But he was silent, his back towards them, seemingly asleep. "Come on." She turned one of their chairs back into a folding one to give her easier access to the back and sat him down in it. "Now, you can't say anything about the job I do, okay? I've never done this before."

Harry leaned back and closed his eyes, unashamedly enjoying the feeling of her hands running through his hair (perhaps more than necessary) as she moved it different ways before straightening it out again and summoning a pair of scissors from her bag. Harry could tell she was holding her breath as she made the first cut, barely snipping any hair off the end. She was incredibly gentle about it, and after a couple minutes of her getting comfortable, she really was doing her best, going over the same spots over again to make sure it was even, he assumed. He knew it wasn't going to be perfect, but whatever he was going to look like would be less annoying. Not like anyone would see it but Hermione and Ron.

"Oh my God," Hermione muttered behind him, and Harry's eyes widened.

"What?"

"I'll tell you in a minute." Then she got up and left, Harry's hands flying to the back of his neck. Nothing felt like it was bleeding, and it felt like all of his hair was still there, which was a relief.

"Maybe you could tell me now," he said, getting up to follow her.

"The sword of Gryffindor," she quickly answered. "It's goblin-made."

"Brilliant." This was nothing new to them. She grabbed a book from the stack and flipped through it, seemingly knowing exactly what she was looking for.

"No, you don't understand," she said excitedly. "Dirt and rust have no effect on the blade. It only takes in that which makes it stronger."

Harry frowned in thought, sitting down on one of the benches and trying to put two and two together. "O-Okay…?"

Hermione huffed through her laugh. "Harry, you've already destroyed one horcrux. In the Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle's diary."

"With a basilisk fang," Harry reminded her. "If you tell me you've got one of those in that bloody beaded bag-"

"Don't you see? You stabbed the basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor. Its blade is impregnated with basilisk venom."

"It only takes in that which makes it stronger," Harry repeated, finally understanding what Hermione was getting at as she took a seat across from him.

"Exactly! Which is why-"

"It can destroy horcruxes."

"That's why Dumbledore left it to you, Harry!"

"You are… brilliant, Hermione." He reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "Truly. I could kiss you right now," he laughed, and so did she.

"Actually, I'm just highly logical, which allows me to look past extraneous detail and clearly perceive that which others overlook," she argued.

But Harry's face fell. "There's only one problem, of course. The-"

Suddenly, all the light vanished, surrounding them in only the moonlight that was coming through the fabric of the tent. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances at each other's silhouettes.

"The sword was stolen," Ron's voice said before the light came back up to reveal a very sleep-deprived and angry Ron. "Yeah. I'm still here."

"We thought you were asleep," Hermione offered.

"Well, you two go on. Don't let me spoil the fun."

Harry sighed. Something was getting to him that he'd been keeping in, and now it had come to a head. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. Not according to you, anyway."

Harry glanced at Hermione before turning on the seat to face Ron, giving him full attention. "Look, if you've got something to say, don't be shy. Spit it out."

Hermione wasn't new to their squabbles, especially lately, when it seemed like they were fighting over anything and everything. But something in Ron's eyes was different this time, and she had a bad feeling in her gut that this wouldn't end well.

"All right, I'll spit it out. But don't expect me to be grateful just because there's another damn thing we've got to find."

"I thought you knew what you signed up for when you agreed to coming with me."

Ron paused, looking between the two of them. "Yeah, I thought I did too."

"Well then, I don't understand what part of this isn't living up to your expectations." Harry stood and moved down the stairs by the table to be level with Ron. "Did you think we'd be in a five-star hotel, finding horcruxes every other night? You thought you'd be back with your mum by Christmas?"

"Harry…" Hermione whispered.

"I just thought that after all this time we'd have actually achieved something. We thought you knew what you were doing!"

"We?" Harry looked at Hermione.

"Yeah, she's disappointed, too," Ron answered for her. "She told me. She tells me a lot of things you don't know, mate."

"Ron, stop! I-I never said I was disappointed, I-"

"Don't lie, Hermione. You don't like being here any more than I do."

"That's not true," she whispered.

"Isn't it?" Harry asked, turning on her now. "What else have you been whispering about behind my back? Don't think I haven't noticed." Whispering to each other about anything else was one thing, but whispering about him was something else entirely. "Why don't we all go around and say what we don't like about each other?"

"It's not about you, Harry, I promise." She hated being put on the spot like this, called out in conversations with Ron she'd already regretted somewhere in the back of her mind. Maybe she'd mentioned how awkward it was for them when Harry was there, and how having nothing to do but research was taking a tiny toll on her sanity, how the books got heavier, how she wished Harry would be more help sometimes. Hermione's eyes filled with tears as she looked between the both of them and carefully stood in the middle. "I just mentioned how it's been so long and I just thought that maybe Dumbledore had given you something more…"

"Helpful. Worthwhile," Ron finished after a pause.

"I've told you everything Dumbledore told me!" Harry argued, directed back at Ron now. He didn't need to make Hermione cry again. "And in case you haven't noticed, we've already found one horcrux."

"Yeah, and we're not any closer to getting rid of it than we are to finding the others, are we?"

"Ron," Hermione whispered, approaching him carefully and reaching for the locket, "please take the horcrux off." She tried not to look too hurt when he pushed her away. "You… you wouldn't be saying any of this if you hadn't been wearing it all day."

It had been an oversight by all of them - they'd had trouble keeping up with the schedule lately, and they hadn't even realized Ron had been wearing it since breakfast, and it was now evening. That's why he'd been so distant all day, Hermione realized, though it didn't explain the rest of the days. She tried to embrace him once more, but he stepped away.

"I'm sick of blaming all our problems on this thing!" He took it off and threw it onto the floor. "There, look, it's off and I'm still angry. I've been angry, Harry. At you. At her. At You Know Who. At the whole damn world. There's a bloody war going on and we're stuck in a tent, running away from everything that could possibly pose a problem with no direction. We're stuck in here with each other and letting a locket get into our heads and tell us how we feel, who we love. Who we hate. She can't make up her mind. I can't make up my mind. You can't make up your mind. And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of not being in control of my own bloody brain. I'm not going to spend the rest of my life never actually accomplishing anything because I can't get my head on straight!"

"Fine then, go! Go then! If you think you can't handle it, go."

Ron let out a sadistic laugh. "You think I can't handle it?"

"Well, you're not. You're talking about not wanting to run away, but what is it you're doing now?"

"Saving my skin, that's what. If I'm going to die in this war, I'd rather spend my last days with my family."

"Ron…" It was the first word she said since Ron's words had sunk in. Had Harry been right the whole time? He couldn't have been. Ron… Ron couldn't have been faking everything he acted like he felt towards her, everything he said to her. But what had he actually said? She couldn't remember him saying anything that should have made her think… but the touches and the looks… none of it was real? Of course it wasn't. It never had been.

Ron walked out of the tent and instinctively, she followed. "Ron!" she pleaded. "Please come back. Where are you going?" Feelings aside, leaving without any way to get in touch with him was dangerous for both of them. What if he was captured? But he was already gone with a pop, and Hermione could only hope he'd find his way back to the Burrow.

Harry couldn't believe he was actually gone. Ron had finally snapped; honestly, Harry was surprised it had taken him this long, but he didn't think he'd leave because of it. Sure, the tension between the three of them had been escalating quickly since Hermione's birthday, but he never thought Ron would abandon them like that. Abandon the cause, the mission. Abandon Hermione.

So he'd been right in his assumption about Ron's feelings. It didn't make sense, though, why he still acted like that without the horcrux on. For a moment, he believed Ron really had changed his mind after all, only because of the convenience of Hermione being close and available. They'd be crazy not to fall for her. But now Harry would have to pick up the pieces of a broken Hermione all over again. That was, at least, if she didn't go, too. Honestly, he wasn't sure she was still out there, but he wasn't about to go check. He didn't want that truth - he'd be better off just staying in the tent. If he was alone now, it wouldn't do any good to prolong the acceptance.

She finally came back in after what seemed like hours, and could have been, soaked and shivering, and fell into Harry's arms, her shoulders heaving in silent sobs of tears that had run out. "I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered. "I'm so s-sorry…"

Harry didn't respond, just rubbed her back and held her as tight as he could. After a few minutes, he walked them to her bunk and sat down with her to get more comfortable, and she about crawled into his lap.

And he let her.

By the time she eventually dozed off against his chest, his arm had fallen asleep from the position they were in, and he did his best to move their bodies, but her eyes fluttered open with a yawn, looking around before realizing that what had happened, in fact, hadn't been a dream.

"Do you want to change into something more comfortable?"

Hermione nodded softly, pulling herself reluctantly from his arms and rubbing her eyes softly. "I'll… I'll go change. Thank you, Harry." She shivered on the way to the bathroom; this was going to be a long night.

Harry changed quickly himself while Hermione was in the bathroom. The very palpable hole where Ron usually slept was glaringly obvious in the silence and the darkness. He got her an extra blanket and dimmed the lights to keep her as comfortable as possible so she could sleep. She came back out in her flannel pajamas, arms wrapped around herself in embarrassment or discomfort; Harry couldn't be sure.

He helped tuck her into the blankets, with the plush Crookshanks hugged tightly to her chest. "Goodnight, Hermione. Try to get some sleep, okay?" he whispered, rubbing her arm as her eyes closed.

"Harry?" she asked with a shaky breath, turning over and looking up at him. "Can you… stay with me tonight?"

"I don't think that's a good idea…"

"Please? I just… don't like you being so far away."

He couldn't argue with that. So, against his best judgement, he pushed the horcrux around so it wouldn't squish between them and crawled into bed next to her. It was a tight squeeze, as the cots were only really meant for one person, but he managed. He kept one of the blankets between them and one over them so she wouldn't feel too awkward, considering neither of them had ever shared a bed with anyone else. But surprisingly, Harry didn't feel that strange, and with an arm wrapped around Hermione's stomach over the blanket, she fell asleep rather quickly with Harry following suit shortly after.