Getting out of bed the next morning was the worst idea she'd had in a long time. First, she'd apparently spent some time sleeping on her bad shoulder, which was extremely stiff under her weight. But the need to move was outweighed by the fact that her back was pressed against Harry's chest, his arm wrapped around her, and the blanket tucking them in a cocoon of shared body heat. Most of their mornings had started rather early with showering and breakfast and research, but none of that was at the forefront of her mind at the moment. She closed her eyes again and she could pretend that they were in their own house, the war was over, and they had all the time in the world to spend the morning however they wanted. And right now, this was what she wanted. Harry wasn't awake yet anyway, so she figured she might as well soak in as much of the moment as she could before she may not be able to.

You know the spell, Harry. Voldemort's voice echoed in Harry's head, and he was in the Ministry of Magic again, with Bellatrix under his wand. Do it. Don't worry, it comes naturally. Easy. Like breathing. We're so much alike, you and I, aren't we? Anger comes so easily. Hate comes so easily. Let the anger take over. Let the hatred surface. It fuels you. Drives you.

You're wrong, Harry replied. You're the one driven by hate because you have no one that loves you.

And you do, Harry? Everyone you love is dead. Everyone who loves you is dead or they've abandoned you. Your family, your friends… Harry felt his neck stiffen up again, the way it did when he got into his head, and he quickly shook it out, not taking an eye off Bellatrix, who was just lying there, breathing heavily. Why wasn't she running? Why wouldn't she move?

Hermione's still here, Tom. And she won't let you lay a hand on me.

You think she loves you enough to sacrifice herself for you?

Harry gasped as, with a flash of green light, Bellatrix's form turned into Hermione, covered in blood and torn clothes again. His stomach churned. But this time, the color in her face was gone. She wasn't moving. He unfurled his fingers as his wand fell to the floor with a clank, rolling across the marble. Had he done that?

You'll kill her if you keep her, Harry. The longer she stays, the closer she gets to danger, to death. I'll kill her. And you'll have to watch. Then what will you do, Harry Potter? Will you let me kill you then? When you have nothing left?

"Harry!" Hermione's voice was calling. He looked down at the body on the floor in front of him, but it wasn't where her voice was coming from. Where was it coming from? "Harry, wake up!"

He opened his eyes to Hermione frantically shaking him with a worried look on her face. "Hermione," he panted, looking around before pulling her as close to him as possible. She gasped, but complied, hugging him back, though the angle was awkward and a little painful for her shoulder.

"You're okay, Harry. It was just a dream," she promised as she reached to pull the locket over his head and onto hers. "You're okay."

"Hermione, he…" Harry shook his head, not even wanting to recall the dream. How dare he let Voldemort in. How dare he dangle Hermione's safety in front of him. But he couldn't deny that it was the truth. What if he couldn't save her again? Would that mark be on his soul, too? If he lost her, he truly would have nothing.

"It's okay." Both of Hermione's hands moved to Harry's cheeks. "Harry, look at me." Their eyes finally met and Harry relaxed a little as reality settled back into his mind. "I'm right here."

Even without his glasses, Hermione's form and voice were soothing, and it calmed his racing heart. He pressed their foreheads together, closing his eyes. "He got into my head. And he… threatened you. Made it look like I'd killed you. That I'm going to kill you," he managed to get out.

"Harry, I know you'd never hurt me." She kissed him softly, and he just put a hand on the back of her neck to keep their lips together for a few seconds. The tactile sensation of skin contact finally allowed him to fully relax again, and he took a few deep breaths.

"That was… the worst dream I'd ever had in my life, Hermione. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of this. For dragging you along on this with me, for putting you in danger, for making you leave your family and traipse all over England together and look for horcruxes and -"

Hermione stopped him with another kiss, pulling back once Harry got the message. "Harry, stop," she said seriously. "Listen to yourself. You haven't made me do anything, okay? I chose this. I chose you. I've been putting myself in danger for seven years - this isn't anything new. We're capable, Harry. We can protect each other. And we've been getting to travel all over England together in a cozy tent in the snow. Just think about it like that. You Know Who's not here. I am, okay? He's not in this tent and he's not between us. It's just you and me. He's not going to break us apart. We're too strong for that."

"I love you, Hermione," Harry breathed before pausing to let his own words sink in. He hadn't even meant to say it, but there it was. When she didn't respond for a few seconds, he thought about backtracking, but that would just make it worse. He did mean it. He loved her friendship, her companionship, their relationship, and her. Everything she could do and everything she stood for.

"Harry, I-"

"You don't have to say it back," he promised. "I just… know we're trying to be honest with our feelings and after the dream I had, I just wanted to make sure you… you knew how I felt."

Hermione swallowed, running a hand through her hair. "I-I don't think I'm there yet, Harry. I mean, I do love you but…"

Harry reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. "I get it. Like I said, I'm not expecting anything in return. It's okay. I'm just really glad you're still here with me."

"Oh, Harry, I'm not going anywhere." They'd told each other that so many times, but after Harry's proclamation, it seemed like it had a different effect. Hermione's heart had fluttered wildly at his words, and though it had been close to instinctual to say it back, she wasn't sure she could. The feelings were there, but did she want to commit to that? To being in love with someone who might get hurt or killed? This was the weakness she was scared of; she knew how people in love could be, blinded by their feelings enough to not think clearly. But she thought about Diagon Alley - he couldn't have just had this revelation in a day. He'd saved her life because he loved her. He did whatever it took to keep her alive because he loved her. Hermione bit her lip as a tear fell from her eye. No wonder he was fighting so hard. For a brief moment, she felt something akin to being starstruck. Harry Potter was in love with her. No, she reminded herself. To her, he wasn't Harry Potter. He was just Harry, her best friend, and he was in love with her. And she had no idea how she'd gotten so lucky.

When he kissed her, she could feel it radiate all the way to her toes. God, this was going to be a lot harder now. A ringing sound filled the tent with a noise they hadn't heard in a long time. Hermione's eyes widened - it was the chime she'd created for a new message in the magazine. "Arthur." She nearly jumped over Harry as she ran to the table. "Thank God," she sighed. "Ron's with them. He's safe."

It truly was a relief after weeks of not knowing where he was or if he was even alive, but Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of annoyance. What if Ron wanted to come back? Would they be able to be in the tent with him again after so much time alone? He wasn't sure he wanted him back, honestly. Especially trying to explain their relationship to him and what had happened. Would he try to convince Hermione it was just the opportunity?

He reluctantly left the bed and stretched, heading into the kitchen to make them some coffee. "That's good, at least," he began. "I'm glad."

"You don't sound like it," Hermione smirked, sending a quick message back to Arthur in thanks before looking up at him.

"I am! Honestly! Even if he's a git most of the time, he's still my friend. I just don't want him to come back."

Hermione laughed. "Not tired of me yet?" She leaned against the counter next to him, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Not quite. Besides, I don't think I'd want him to handle the locket again. He doesn't have the emotional control."

"Maybe he's changed," she shrugged.

"You're defending him?"

"It's been weeks, Harry. I'm sure he misses us. I'm sure he feels bad for leaving."

"I doubt it," Harry muttered as he poured their coffee.

"What, do you never want to see him again or something? He was your first friend at Hogwarts. You can't just give up on him like that. I mean, I know he hasn't been the best friend every single year, and he can get in the way sometimes, but I think he means well most of the time…"

"Is that why you can't tell me you love me?"

Hermione was silent for a few seconds, her brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"Is Ron the reason you can't tell me you love me?"

"Harry, if you're insinuating that still have feelings for him-"

"Then what is it?"

"You said it didn't matter! You said it was okay if I didn't reciprocate it right now."

"It doesn't matter. I just wanted to make sure that he's not the reason."

"And what if he was? Would you change your mind?" Of course it wasn't true, and this seemed like it was escalating into a discussion that they probably should have had before Hermione had even kissed him, but they hadn't, and Hermione hadn't realized that Harry would be so sensitive at the mere mention of Ron. Did he have that little faith in her feelings for him?

"What do you mean?"

"If I still had feelings for Ron that I was trying to get over, would it make you love me any less?"

"Well… n-no, but… you're not going to use that against me, Hermione! You can't."

"What do you want me to say, then? That you never want me seeing Ron again because you think that the second I see him, I'm going to start having feelings for him?"

"Well, it was easy enough a few months ago, Hermione!" he snapped, his voice raising more than he intended, but he couldn't stop it. "I thought you were done with him and then he starts giving you attention and you're all over him again! How am I supposed to know that the reason you can't say you love me isn't that you're only snogging me because I'm the only one giving you affection?!"

After seeing the way Hermione slapped Malfoy in third year, he always considered himself lucky he'd never be on the receiving end. His luck had just run out. He never ever thought she'd lay hands on him, and every argument he had against her was suddenly out the window as she made contact. She was trying her best not to cry, and he did feel bad about the way he'd approached the subject. But he couldn't apologize about his concerns - he had the right to think the way he did, and in the end, he didn't want to embarrass himself by throwing himself into a relationship that could be taken away from him at the drop of a hat. Maybe Voldemort was right. Maybe he wasn't fit for love because he couldn't keep it. He had no way of knowing how to love somebody long term, and that scared him. He never got to love his parents, he never got to love Sirius, or Cho, or Ginny or anyone that might have lasted in his life. How was Hermione any different? Could she really promise she'd stay?

The glare she was giving him was a mixture of anger and… pity? "Try that again?" she challenged.

Harry rubbed his cheek a little to lessen the sting, lucky she hadn't pulled her wand on him. He steeled his eyes as well, not backing down from her. "Prove me wrong, then."

Hermione's eyebrows knitted a little bit in confusion. She hadn't expected him to meet her challenge when she was so used to him giving in, and she was a little taken aback. "What?"

"Prove me wrong."

"How?"

Harry just shrugged, turning back to the coffee to reheat it and add in the cream and sugar Hermione liked. She just stood there. Was this a joke? Was Harry trying to be funny? She'd never seen him like this, and couldn't help but laugh nervously to herself. She looked down at the locket around her neck to make sure she was actually the one wearing it. When he handed her a mug, she took it, but kept her eyes on him.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, but it still didn't make her any less skeptical. "I shouldn't have said what I did, but I do think there's some validity in the point I made."

"No, you shouldn't have. Because you know that's not true." She sipped at the coffee and was almost mad that it was perfect. Her anger was still swirling around inside of her, but she knew it was useless to stay mad at him. It would just drive them apart, but the feeling she got when she knew Ron was safe was a little more relief than she'd expected, and she couldn't ignore that. "I suppose I can understand where you're coming from. It's just hard, Harry," Hermione sighed, moving to sit down at the table. "It's hard when you've got feelings for someone and they don't seem to be interested, and then suddenly they do. If Ginny suddenly told you she was in love with you, wouldn't you be at least a little interested in what it was like to be with her?" Harry wanted to answer no immediately, but he couldn't, and his lack of answer was enough as he sat down next to her. "We're teenagers, Harry. We're supposed to be dating and finding out who we like and who we don't and I think part of me is just… appreciative that more than one person finds me attractive."

"I've always found you attractive, Hermione."

"You don't have to say that, Harry."

"No, I'm serious. I… get it, though. It's normal to have options, so when the opportunity presents itself to have options, it makes you feel good."

"You make me feel good, Harry. Better than Ron ever did. And even if I still did have feelings for Ron, he can't make me feel like…"

"Like what?"

"Beautiful. Sexy. Like… like every mean thing everyone has ever said to me doesn't matter. I don't think we need a label when we don't need to prove ourselves to anybody. And since we don't know what's going to happen when this war is over, it's not worth worrying about. But what if we make an agreement that if, when it's all over, when we're out of this tent and back with everyone else, if our feelings for each other aren't what they are right now, no matter what happens between now and then, we won't have any hard feelings?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know if I'd be able to handle that, Hermione. I don't think I'd be able to handle you leaving, too."

Hermione scoffed. "You really think I would? Just because I don't want to put a name to it doesn't change how I feel. Just because I can't tell you my feelings right now doesn't mean I don't feel them."

"Then… why won't you tell me? If you feel like that, I don't understand."

"I don't want to lose you, Harry," she muttered, sipping at her coffee. "We're… we're in a war. It's stupid, but there's a part of me that feels like… if I don't commit to loving you, then if something should happen to you, it wouldn't be as hard."

"I thought about that, too. But after the dream I had, after facing that reality, I think… knowing that I love you would make me more inclined to protect you, and maybe help you protect me as well."

"Maybe you're right," Hermione sighed. "We've never done this before, Harry. Can we just admit that neither of us have any idea what we're doing?"

"I think that's fair. Except snogging. You definitely know what you're doing."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but blushed. "So do you. I really don't like being mad at you, you know."

"I don't like being mad at you, either. Blimey, I didn't think you'd slap me."

"You deserved it."

"I know. I'm sorry."