A/N: This chapter is gratefully dedicated to La Suede, Holy Pancake, NaughtyBunny and jitterbug393.

Neither Harry nor Hermione wanted to reach into the space to remove the letters. Harry looked up at her and saw she had no color to her face at all.

"Maybe they're here from a previous owner."

"Maybe," she replied, but he could tell she didn't believe him. Hermione reached down slowly and pulled the baggie out – through the plastic she could see they were addressed to Ron, his name written in slate grey ink. Harry gently took them out of her hands and waved his wand over the bag – nothing happened.

"They seem to be safe, no dark magic. Want me to open them?"

"No, I will," she said fiercely. Hermione was suddenly struck by anger towards her late husband. Ron was someone she thought she had known inside and out, and yet here she was, discovering one thing after another that had been kept from her. Wordlessly, she opened the baggie and removed the stack of letters. The pile was easily thicker than Hogwarts: A History, she noted. Some letters were wrinkled as if they had been crumpled up and then smoothed back out. Some were crisp; some had stains all over them. There were so many, and Hermione had no idea who they may have been from. They style of writing changed from one letter to the next, but there were all written in grey ink.

Anxiously, Hermione picked up the letter on the top of the stack, and opened it.

"I WILL KILL HER," was written in large letters.

Without bothering to pass it to Harry, she picked up the second one.

"HERMIONE JANE GRANGER IS DEAD," it read.

The third, "I WILL KILL HERMIONE IN FRONT OF YOU."

"HERMIONE WILL BLEED."

"I'M GOING TO MURDER HER WHILE YOU WATCH."

"YOU WILL HEAR HER SCREAM AGAIN."

"LOOK AT HERMIONE JANE DIE."

One after another, she opened the letters, Harry desperately trying to keep up. Hermione had no energy left to cry or get hysterical: she could only open letters. She reached that last one. "I'M GOING TO TAKE AWAY YOUR WHOLE WORLD."

They sat on the kitchen floor, surrounded by open letters. Despite her frenzy, Harry noted, she had remembered to place them in a circle so she knew what order they went in. But that was Hermione: always logical even under immense pressure. As soon as she finished, Harry told her to pick them back up and get her coat.

"Why? I don't want to go anywhere, Harry, what are you talking about?"

"You're not staying here, are you kidding? This person could be watching us right now! You're coming back with me to my place."

Hermione couldn't help but look around, as if expecting to see someone. She was covered in goose bumps. "But there are dozens of charms and spells around our flat!"

"Well I'm not taking the time to check them all - they couldn't keep these letters out!"

"Then we'd better not apparate out, if you're worried. Can we walk to your flat?"

"Yes, let's just get out of here."

Harry picked up the letters, letting out a little shudder when Hermione had left the room. He was chilled to the bone that anyone could wish Hermione harm, let alone terrorize Ron about killing her!

Hermione came back in with a coat on and an overnight bag. When she tucked the letters in her bag, Harry saw the corner of the shoebox poking out.

He put a protective arm around her as they left, locking the door for her. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching them right around the corner.

Harry and Hermione took one last look at the letters before he insisted that she sleep. When she argued that she wouldn't sleep anyway, that she'd rather try to begin piecing things together, he refused to listen and led her to his bedroom. He left while she changed into her nightclothes, and returned with a glass bottle in his hands.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I'll transfigure the couch. I am a wizard, you know."

"Oh, right."

He handed a green bottle to her: Dreamless Sleep potion. She didn't ask why he had it. "One big gulp," he said, "We'll figure this out in the morning."

An exhausted Hermione didn't argue, but threw back a mouthful. She embraced him tightly, whispering, "I'm so grateful…" Harry didn't hear what it was she was grateful for, as she instantly fell asleep in his arms. The potion was potent. He laid her back down, tucking the white sheets around her.

Harry turned down the lights then reached into Hermione's bag to pull out the shoebox. He procured an armchair out of this air, and opened the door a crack so he could hear any noises in the rest of the flat. Harry sat there all night, alternately listening to Hermione and looking at the objects in the shoebox.

One photo caught his eye in particular, of Hermione and Ginny, taken during one of their summers together. It had actually been Harry's photo, given to him by Mrs. Weasley in a large stack after a summer spent at the Burrow. Hermione and Ginny had been sunbathing, and were obviously interrupted by one of the Weasleys. They sat on the grass giggling in their swimsuits, waving out from the photo embarrassedly. Ron had seen it sometime during the following school year, and had tried not to show his interest in it.

"Hey, Harry, you don't want this photo do you?" Ron had waved it around so as not to let Harry see exactly what the picture was of.

"What, Ginny and Hermione?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Harry had looked up confused. "No, not really. But why do you want it?"

"I don't," Ron had said quickly, turning red, "But, you know, uh, school project."

Harry had never heard of any such project. However, he was getting an idea as to why Ron might want the picture.

"Well, it's yours, mate," and had then dropped the subject.

Harry let a tear fall silently, remembering Ron's red ears. He looked from the pretty, smiling Hermione in the picture to the wane, pale Hermione in his bed, and let another tear fall – in memoriam of both his friends.

Harry didn't sleep a wink that night, preferring to listen for any movement in the flat. He rose when the sun came up, before Hermione had woken, and went to the kitchen to make coffee. She joined him within the hour, carrying the letters and shoebox with her. He kissed her temple in greeting.

"Sleep okay?"

"Yes, no dreams. That potion was strong."

"Well, you're really only supposed to take a small sip of it, but I wanted to make sure you got some rest."

Hermione made a face at his concern. "How did you sleep? Have enough energy to transfigure the couch?"

"Yes, I got some rest."

"Well, you don't look it." She thanked him for the coffee, and asked if the Daily Prophet had arrived yet. Harry picked it up from the counter, glanced at the headlines, and passed it to Hermione.

Abruptly, Harry snatched it back out of her hand before she could even glance at it.

"Harry-!"

He stood up with it in his hands, his face draining of color. Hermione caught a few choice words muttered under his breath.

"Harry, what is it? Is it about Ron, do they have a lead?"

"No, it's not about Ron," he said coldly, "You don't want to read this, Hermione."

Swiftly, Hermione said, "Accio!" The newspaper flew out of Harry's hands and into hers.

"WEASLEY WIDOW SPENDS NIGHT AT POTTER'S," the newspaper headline screamed. Hermione paled just as quickly as Harry had, as she looked at the accompanying photos: Harry with his hand over Hermione's in the café, sitting on the bench in the park, exiting her flat with his arm around her and then entering his flat. They had, indeed, had someone tailing them all day, someone who had probably made a good pile of Galleons for these pictures.

Hermione threw the paper down in disgust before burying her face in her hands and sitting back down. Harry knelt before her and wrapped his arms around her comfortingly.

"What will Molly and Arthur say?" she whispered.

"They know us too well to believe anything written in the papers, Hermione. You know that."

"But it looks…so horrible."

"I know what it looks like - it looks disgusting, but people will believe what they want to believe and that's all there is to it," Harry whispered.

This reasoning comforted Hermione somewhat, before she remembered that they were supposed to have lunch with the Weasleys this afternoon. "What will we say?" She sounded mildly panicked.

"They're not going to think twice about it," was his firm reply.

On her way to get dressed, Hermione waved her hand at the newspaper, setting it aflame, again with wandless magic. Harry couldn't help but wonder at her power even when she was distressed.

"So lets go over this again," Harry said a few hours later, "You don't know the handwriting, there are no fingerprints or any form of magical signature, and we have no idea as to how they were delivered."

"Yes!" Hermione yelled, frustrated. "How is this possible? We're two of the smartest wizards today, or at least we have the most experience in all things weird and mysterious, and yet we can't even figure out who sent a pile of handwritten letters! The only thing I can think of is that Ron is the only person to call me 'Hermione Jane.' Not even my mother calls me that."

"That's pretty significant! I'd forgotten about that."

Hermione sighed. "We're running out of time before lunch. I think our brains are still pretty clouded. Let's say we drop the letters off at the Ministry on our way over so they can study them. I, obviously, cannot think of a single person who'd truly wish Ron or me harm."

"I hate to say it, but maybe we should leave separately. I'll drop the letters off to Leonard and then I'll meet you at the Burrow."

"It's for the best," she agreed. Hermione stood up and hugged Harry. "I'm sorry I was yelling before, I was just frustrated."

"I've seen you much worse, Hermione."

"Thanks, you're sweet," she said sarcastically, "I will say, though, if I have to be shacking up with someone weeks after my husband's death, I'm glad it's you," Hermione weakly attempted humor.

"Me, too!"

She turned her head to kiss Harry's cheek, but lost her balance slightly and ended up kissing the corner of his mouth. While only meeting briefly, Harry's lips certainly made an impression on Hermione. She inhaled quickly and pulled away, shocked at how such a small action could make her so aware of her lips, her fingertips.

Harry had stiffened immediately, despite a quiet urge to press his lips against hers properly. He couldn't see the expression on her face as she had abruptly turned away, apologized, and went to get her bag and wand so she could apparate to the Weasley's.

Hermione, however, had quickly glanced at Harry while pulling away and found that his eyes hid nothing. He, too, seemed bothered by his physical reaction to this accidental kiss.

They parted with a smile and a wave, Harry to the Ministry and Hermione to the Burrow.