Hermione was tempted to give Ron a Draught of Peace just so he'd stop being so nervous. They'd planned to go visit Xenophilius after breakfast, and Ron had eaten slower than she'd ever seen him eat in her life, but she wasn't in any rush to hurry him up herself. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong, and with Harry's nervous energy flowing out of him as they sat next to each other, it was clear he was thinking the same thing.

She rubbed her shoulder nervously, over the scars. It had been something she'd started doing when she got nervous or scared, as if the reminder of their existence would make her stronger. In the back of her mind, she tried to think of excuses, but pushed them away. They needed this. Though one more horcrux was gone and there were now only three to go, though they had the sword that could destroy them, without actually having them, they were still no better off. And this symbol meant something important to Dumbledore. So they had to go.

"Ready?"

"No."

"Me either."

Hermione took both of their hands and apparated on a hillside with a house maybe a quarter of a mile away. It didn't look like there was any movement inside, but they could be lying low. That would be the smart thing to do. With quick, steady steps as to not spend too much time in the open, they arrived at a house that was, in a way, similar to the Burrow. Thinner at the top than it was at the bottom, several stories tall, with a little porch jutting out over the front steps and a couple windows where Hermione assumed bedrooms would be.

"Keep off the dirigible plums?" Ron read off a sign by the front door. What could have been hundreds of small orange fruits were floating, tethered by their thin vines to the outside walls of the house. "How're you supposed to keep on them if they're on the side of the house?"

"Ron," Hermione whispered, elbowing him softly before knocking softly on the door.

A few seconds later, a hatch in the door opened. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"My name's Hermione Granger, sir. I'm a friend of Luna's."

At his hesitance, Harry stepped forward. "I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Harry Potter. We met a few months ago. Can we come in?"

The man stared at Harry for a long time before closing the hatch and opening the door, ushering them in. Hermione took Harry's hand, holding it tightly as memories of Bathilda's house came flooding back. Luckily, the Lovegoods' house wasn't nearly as dusty. Just… dark. Even though Xenophilius and Luna clearly lived there, there were no lights on or heat, as if they were trying not to look like they were there. Hermione looked around for any clues, eyeing the pictures, furniture, the walls.

"Where's Luna?" Harry asked softly.

Xenophilius stiffened. "Luna? Oh, she'll… be along." No more was said as he moved to pour them what she presumed was tea. The three of them exchanged glances. Something was wrong - they all felt it.

He led them upstairs to a sitting area, handing out mugs of nothing but dredges and gesturing for them all to sit. It was a little dark up here, too. When the silence had gone on much too long, Harry was the first to speak.

"Sir, we… I noticed you were wearing a necklace… at the wedding."

"This?" Out of the front of his shirt, he pulled a silver chain, at the end of which hung the symbol Hermione had now come to feel was much more prevalent than they realized.

"That exact one. We were wondering… what does it mean?"

Xenophilius grinned, though it didn't look entirely genuine. "You're familiar with the tale of the Three Brothers?"

"Yes," Ron and Hermione answered in unison.

"No," Harry replied.

"I have it in here." Hermione reached her hand down into her bag and looked up at Harry, flipping to the start of the story and reading it off. Harry paid attention as much as he could, almost lulled to sleep by the calmness of her voice, as if she were reading a bedtime story. But the moral was there: three brothers that possessed three distinct items. Still, it was just a fairy tale. What did it have to do with them? What did it have to do with Dumbledore?

"I still don't understand," Harry muttered, turning back to the man, who grinned again and stood, beckoning them to follow. He crossed the room to a desk and rummaged for a blank piece of parchment and a charcoal pen.

First, he drew a straight line. "The Elder Wand," he explained. Then a circle, with the line cutting through the middle. "The Resurrection Stone." Then a triangle around it all. His symbol. "The Cloak of Invisibility. Together they make the Deathly Hallows. Together, they make one the master of death." It sounded almost ominous. It couldn't be referring to his Invisibility Cloak, right? This was just a story. "This symbol is a way of recognizing those who believe the Deathly Hallows exist."

Harry frowned, his mind briefly thinking back to the Sorcerer's Stone. But no, that granted immortality, not the ability to resurrect the dead. So there were people that believed and people who didn't - that wasn't anything new. But master of death sounded like a title Voldemort would be after. Could he be looking for these?

"Mr. Lovegood, does the Peverell family have anything to do with the Deathly Hallows?" he heard Hermione ask in a quiet voice behind them.

Xenophilius stilled for a moment, his fingers twitching so minutely that if Harry wasn't on edge, he probably wouldn't have noticed. "The Peverells…" he began, "Ignotus - excuse me," he moved between the three of them, "and his brothers, Cadmus and Antioch, were believed to be the original owners of the Hallows and therefore the… inspiration for the story." He picked up the teapot, which must have been empty, and opened the top to look inside. "Ah… your tea's gone cold. I'll be right back."

"Let's get out of here," Ron whispered, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his back as soon as Xenophilius was down the stairs and out of sight. "I'm not drinking any more of that stuff, hot or cold."

Hermione took a deep breath. She knew they needed more information - what he had provided them was hardly helpful, but the last time they'd overstayed their welcome, Harry had gotten bitten by a snake, and she wasn't about to take that risk again. They still had other places to look, and at least they knew what the symbol meant. That was enough for now. She nodded and went down the stairs first, with Ron behind her and Harry bringing up the rear. Xenophilius was standing with the teapot by a window, looking out of it almost expectantly.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione began, but it made Xenophilius jump either way, and he quickly turned around.

"You… forgot the water," Ron said, but Hermione was suddenly too nervous to scold him for being rude. There was something different, off, about the look in Xenophilius's eyes, even more so than before, and Hermione swallowed thickly, backing up towards Harry out of instinct.

"What?"

"For the tea."

"Did… did I?" He laughed, moving to the sink, but it wasn't a genuine one. "How silly of me." Harry quickly descended the few stairs that were left to Hermione's side.

"It's no matter," she replied as kindly as she could, though she could hear the tremble in her own voice, "we really should be going anyway-"

"No, you can't!" he screamed, dropping the teapot into the sink and rushing to the door, pressing his body against it so they couldn't leave. Hermione's heart rate skyrocketed, and she thought she could feel Harry's, too.

Whether it was courage or pure stupidity, Hermione couldn't tell, but Harry was stepping forward and she found herself clutching onto Ron's sleeve to ground herself so she wouldn't have a panic attack. Her right hand moved to her wand, just in case.

"Sir?"

He turned from the door a broken, scared, desperate man. Gone was the light and even nerves from his eyes, and in its place was a gaze that was empty and cold. "You're my only hope." Hermione wanted to reach for Harry, to pull him away, towards her, towards safety, but she worried any movement would be seen as a threat, so she froze, gripping Ron's sleeve like a lifeline. "They were angry, you see… about what I'd been writing. So they took her. They took my Luna. But you…" He moved towards Harry and Hermione gripped her wand tighter, easing it out of her pocket ever so slowly. She had no idea what she was going to do, but the way he was looking at Harry made her stomach churn. "But it's really you they want."

Nausea burned in her throat as Xenophilius touched Harry's face, pushing back his hair to reveal his scar, and though she knew what was about to happen, she didn't want to believe it. Didn't want to have to prepare for this. This was her idea, and if something happened to Harry, she'd never be able to forgive herself. She silently apologized to Ron - Harry was her number one priority now. She'd chosen him once and she'd do it again, and the ease that realization came to her made her question her own sanity.

Harry reached up to take Xenophilius's arm and guide his hand back down, which made Hermione feel a little better. "Who took her, sir?"

For what seemed like an eternity, the two men stared at each other, a silent stand-off as to who was going to be speaking first. She could see Harry's head shake, persuading Xenophilius to stay quiet. Don't say it. Please don't say it.

"Voldemort."

Hermione and Ron immediately flattened themselves to the ground, taking whatever cover they could find as glass breaking and stone cracking filled the room from all angles. "Harry!" she yelled, seeing him on his stomach as well, crawling towards them as debris from the walls, furniture, plates, and whatever else was falling off the walls crashed down onto their heads and back. They could hear Xenophilius yelling, like he'd gone outside, but unable to make out his words and not caring in the first place, they managed to make their way to each other. Hermione gripped Harry's hand with relief, and had the fleeting thought of just getting the two of them out of there, but she'd never live it down if she chose to leave Ron behind when it wasn't necessary. A split second later, Ron's hand was on top of hers and they were gone before the house collapsed in on itself.

"Treacherous little bleeder," Ron panted as he brushed the dust from his pants in the forest they'd landed in, letting go of Hermione's hand. "Is there no one we can trust?"

"They kidnapped her because he supported me. He was just desperate," Harry argued, hiking his backpack over his shoulder. "If it was my daughter who'd been taken from me, I'd do the same thing."

Hermione, who'd pulled away to reach into her bag for the tent, stopped. She hadn't thought much about after, but Harry's mention of a daughter, of a family, was, for some reason, shocking. Had he thought about having a family with her? Did she want that with him? She wasn't sure - it was hard to tell when it couldn't happen now and may never be able to. But definitely something to think about once it was over. Before things got too serious, they needed to have that discussion once things settled down and they weren't in such a hurry to grow up.

"I'll do the enchantments," Ron's voice started, and it dragged her back. Right. They were on the run, not playing house anymore. Hermione brushed herself off as well and they spread out. But their relaxation only lasted a few seconds as in a neat and crowded half-circle around them, a dozen Snatchers appeared from behind the trees.

"Hello, beautiful." It was the one who almost found her in the forest. And he was wearing the scarf she'd left behind for Ron.

They ran, barely registering the man's voice behind them. "Well, don't hang about. Snatch 'em."

Hermione quickly lost track of Harry, cursing herself for doing so, but they were fending for themselves. Splitting up was probably the smartest thing to do until they got somewhere safe. She could hear footsteps, spells, chains wrapping around trees next to her, but she couldn't tell who was who or who was where. They'd prepared for this. They'd practiced sprints and jogs and dodging, but it had been nothing like this. Fear propelled her forward like she had blinders on, even through a stitch that was coming up quick on her side, threatening to stop her. She tried to look to the side for Harry, but as soon as her head turned, she drifted, and screamed as a blast took the bark off a tree next to her. She sent one back, blowing leaves and dirt and snow off the ground underneath her pursuers. She'd find him. She'd save herself to rescue him.

A glimpse of red hair to her right meant Ron had caught up, and she felt Harry close behind. But she couldn't slow down. Even when she heard him trip, heard him fall back but get up, she couldn't stop.

Ron grunted as chains wrapped themselves around him, and there was a thud as he fell. "Shit," she whispered, but she couldn't stop. They'd probably take them as a group anyway.

Then, somehow, they were in front of her, blocking her path. She skidded to a halt to see Harry coming in close behind. They couldn't find him. She thought of Xenophilius pushing his hair to the side to see his scar, to make sure it was him. They'd do the same, and she wasn't sure where they'd end up. Hermione had to do something. Harry was the one everyone was looking for, not her, and not Ron. She only had a split second to make a decision before it was too late. So, as much as it pained her to do anything potentially harmful to him, she sent a Stinging Jinx straight at his face that knocked him to the ground.

She ran to him immediately, before the Snatchers could even get there, and tore Harry's glasses from his face, shoving them into his jacket pocket and her bag into her boot to hide it.

"The Hallows exist," Harry panted, sitting up and looking at Hermione's blurry form. He'd had a vision. "But he's only after one - the last one. He knows where it is. He's gonna have it by the end of the night. You Know Who's found the Elder Wand."

Hermione's blood ran cold, and for once, she couldn't even scold Harry for the connection with Voldemort. Had it worked in their favor? They knew his plans, but if he found the Elder Wand, there was no telling how long they'd have to find the rest of the horcruxes. And now that they'd been captured… she didn't even want to think about that.

Nor did she have time, as she was torn away from Harry's side.

"Don't touch her!" she could hear Ron yell behind her, but despite her struggling, the man's hold on her was too strong.

"Get off me!" They took her wand from her pocket and stashed it away. She was utterly powerless. She had nothing. They were screwed.

"What happened to you, ugly?" The man with her scarf turned to Harry, who was being gripped by the front of the shirt with both hands by none other than Fenrir Greyback. She tried to pull away from the man holding her again, but he just pulled her back with more force, wrapping an arm tightly around her chest. "What's your name?"

"Dudley. Vernon Dudley."

Fake names. Genius. She needed one.

"Check it," the Snatcher ordered as they confiscated Harry's wand and collected it with the others. "And you, my lovely? What do they call you?" He turned to Hermione. She was fighting every instinct she had in order to stay calm. She wanted to kick this man, spit in his face. Bite him. Something. But she knew better - any outburst from any one of them and they'd all be dead.

"Penelope Clearwater. Half-blood." Bile rose in her throat again as the man leaned down inches from her face. She turned her eyes away in a grimace, but his breath was hot as his hand stroked her cheek and pulled up a strand of her hair. She hadn't put on any perfume since that night with Harry - could it have lingered? Did he recognize her?

"You smell like vanilla," he whispered. "You're gonna be my favorite." She could hear Harry struggling against Greyback as well. At least Ron was staying quiet for once.

"There's no Vernon Dudley on here."

"You hear that, ugly?" The man turned in Harry's direction and Hermione let out a breath. "This says you're lying. How come you don't want us to know who you are?"

"It's wrong. I told you who I am." Harry had another man holding him back now as well as Greyback. Let him fight, Hermione thought. The things he could do to you if he had his wand... The leader touched him and Hermione pulled away again, only to be restrained tighter.

"Don't make me tie you up, beautiful," her captor snarled into her ear, but there was an implication to his voice that suggested he might enjoy that for more than one reason, and Hermione stilled immediately with a sharp gasp. That would be worse. So much worse. Ron was on the ground, still in chains, with a booted foot settled firmly on his hip. He pleadingly looked at Hermione, but what could she do?

"Change of plan. We're not taking this lot to the Ministry."