Chapter 6

Hermione

"What's he doing?"

Harry is making the passes in front of the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, waiting for the door to appear.

"Calling the Room of Requirement to him. Also known as the Come and Go Room."

The door materializes, and Harry pulls it open, looking both ways down the corridor before gesturing for us to go in. Ron just stands there with his jaw on his chest, glancing between Harry and I like we've grown second heads.

Which, in his defense, it probably feels like to him.

It kind of feels like that to me.

"Woah," Ron breathes, finding a replica of the Gryffindor Common Room, excluding the wall to ceiling windows the room provided. The fire is roaring in the corner, and there's a table laced with snacks and bottles of Butterbeer.

"Blimey!" Ron cries, as the door slips shut behind Harry. "When did you discover this room, and if you knew about it, why have we been practicing charms in the Transfiguration classroom?"

He makes a beeline for the plate of cookies, shoving one into his mouth. I turn my face, so he doesn't see my cringe as crumbs cover his chest.

Harry moves over to the windows, looking out onto the Hogwarts grounds. Several students are playing a pickup game of Quidditch, and I watch his hands twitch with the desire to hit the sky.

"We learned about it in fifth year," Harry says, and I swallow down a choke of indignation. Of all the! "Dobby shows us, though Dumbledore told me about it by accident at the Yule Ball."

Ron freezes mid-chew, his mouth open and half swallowed cookie on display. He looks at Harry slowly, his brain attempting to process what Harry's just said.

I…I can't.

I turn to Harry instead, hissing in his direction.

"Harry James! We talked about this!"

He's started pacing the length of the windows, ignoring the few fliers enjoying the summer sun before the beginning of hols.

"No, Mi. We didn't. We said we needed to talk about what to tell him, then complained about how daft and annoying he is at this age—"

"HEY!" Ron bellows. I glance at him, but Harry isn't done yet.

"But I need him, Mi. We need him. You and I both know I won't be able to keep from letting it slip anyway, and better to tell him now rather than accidentally bugger it up six months from now and have him think we're even more mental."

One glance at Ron over my shoulder, and it's obvious enough that's exactly what Ron's thinking. He's easing towards the door, eyes flicking to it from the side, as if debating his chances of taking off at a run.

Harry braces himself, then faces his best mate.

"We're from the future, Ron. We died, about three years from now, and they sent us back to get things right this time."

Ron stutters, choking on his own tongue. His eyes bug out, the tips of his ears going red.

This isn't going well.

"Is it really that hard to believe?" I ask, coming to stand at Harry's side. I ease my wand out from my pocket in case we need to subdue Ron. Harry won't take action, of that, I'm sure. He'd rather risk Ron running and bringing the entire castle down on us than raising his wand to his friend. "We've traveled backwards through time before, after all."

"With a Time Turner!" Ron exclaims, running his hand through his hair. "You want me to believe you died and came back to the past."

"Technically, I'm pretty sure you died too," Harry says, only making things worse.

Ron blanches, the blood draining from his face so quickly I'm afraid he might pass out. He falls heavily backwards, his bum landing on the table.

"Harry," I snap at him and smack him upside the head.

"Ow!" He whines, rubbing at the spot with his hand. His shoulders lift to his ears and he jumps away when I try to hit him again. "What? It's true!"

"Not. Helping!" I bite out, my wand tight in my hand now. If nothing else, I'll need it to clean up the sick, since Ron looks a heartbeat from losing that cookie he just ate. I close the distance between us, and ignoring the way he flinches at my touch, shove his head between his knees.

"Deep breaths, Ron. It's okay. It's all going to be okay."

Ron sucks in a painful sounding gasp of air, grasping his knees in his hands, before looking up at us from a half-hunched position.

"Look," Harry says, a pleading tone in his voice. He drops to a squat in front of our best friend, so Ron is taller than him again. "You asked me what's going on with me and Mi? Well, this is it. The three of us were on the run after the Ministry fell and Hogwarts was taken over. We'd been on our own for months, living in a tent, when we were captured and taken to Malfoy Manor. They killed us. I know it sounds outrageous, but it's the truth. I'll be eighteen next month, Mi will be nineteen in September. One minute, we were in the hands of the enemy, the next we were in some sort of office, and five minutes after that, we opened our eyes and were in the Great Hall, listening as Dumbledore called the contestants down to the pitch."

Harry looks at me over Ron's shoulder and I nod my head encouragingly.

"Last night was easy, because I knew what was going to happen. I didn't even have to duel with Riddle. Last time, we fought, and—" his voice catches in his throat. "Cedric Diggory died. Wormtail got away. Barty Crouch Jr. was given the kiss by that Dementor, and Fudge told the world I was a liar."

Ron sways where he sits.

"The Dementor," he breathes, eyes wide and hands shaking. His lips move, though no sound comes out, and I know he's remembering how Harry called his Patronus before anyone even knew the Dementor was there.

"You're not taking the piss out of me?" He asks in a strangled voice.

I rub my hand soothingly over his back, and Harry watches the motion with his eyes. It makes me want to pull away for some reason, even if I don't.

"Think about it, Ron. Does it feel like we're lying?"

Ron swallows roughly, sitting up straight.

"No," admits reluctantly, "but I really want you to be."

"I can prove it," Harrys says, and Ron pulls away, giving him a dubious look. "If bringing you here wasn't proof enough. When we talk to Dumbledore, if he's honest, and that's a big if from where I'm sitting at the moment."

"We're mad at him," I add helpfully, when Ron looks confused at Harry's mounting aggression. "Get back on track, Harry," I say, and Harry shoots me a grateful smile.

"Right. Sorry. We are mad at him, but that's neither here nor there. I'm going to demand he tell me why Riddle has been after me since I was a baby, and he'll tell us, hopefully," he adds in a growl, "that there was a prophecy made when…"

Harry hesitates, a far off look in his eye. I don't know how he's still sitting like that. My legs are burning simply from watching him squat. Years on a broom I suppose.

"Actually, I don't know when for sure it was made. Trewlawney made it if you can believe it. During her job interview for Hogwarts. But I don't even know if I was born yet to be honest. Anyway," he shakes his head.

I come to him and run my hands through his hair. His eyes close as he leans into my touch, and I take over his story.

"It says that the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born at the end of July, to parents who have defied Riddle three times already. Riddle will mark him as his equal." This time when I run my fingers through his hair, Iift the fringe from his brow. For the second time, Ron looks on the verge of sickness. I let Harry's hair fall, while continuing to slid my fingers through the thick strands. "And he will have power that the Dark Lord knows not."

"For neither can live," Harry parrots by rote, his voice dead and empty, "while the other survives."

"Blimey, Harry," Ron sighs, his eyes as round as saucers. "Wait!" He says, and Harry rolls his eyes.

"Here it is," he mumbles under his breath. Or at least, he must have. I didn't see his lips move, though.

Weird.

Ron jumps up from the table, the outburst so unexpected that Harry falls backwards on his bum.

"If you have power that You Know Who doesn't have, what is it?!"

He's bursting, excitement coursing through his every limb.

Harry grumbles under his breath, and I reach out a hand and haul him to his feet when Ron doesn't make the effort.

Wanker.

"Love," I answer for Harry, my limbs tingling suddenly.

"Love?" Ron grunts. Caught off guard at the unexpected answer. "How can love be a power?"

"You'd be surprised," Harry says softly, and I look up to find his eyes on me. A blush heats my face, and I avert my gaze.

"How can you say that?" I demand, looking at our wayward redhead. "Love is the reason Harry is even alive, Ron. His mother sacrificed herself because she loved him." I point at Harry. "Next year, Voldemort tries to possess him, and he can't because he couldn't stand to be that close to a heart so filled with love. Our love for each other saves us over and over again!" I jab myself in my chest, my voice cracking with tears "I DIE becau—"

My voice catches in my throat, and Harry closes the distance between us to pull me against his chest, his lips resting against my hair.

"It's not going to happen again, Mi!" He says fiercely, and Ron takes a step closer, and closer, until he's right at our side. Ron looks horrified at what he's seeing, his throat bobbing as he swallows over and over. But his chest hitches and his hands flex at his side. He rocks side to side on his feet, unsure of what to do but not wanting to be left alone.

I reach out for him, and he joins our group hug wrapping an arm around each of our shoulders.

I hide my face in Harry's shoulder as tears slip down my cheeks.

I'm not a crier dammit! The fact that I'm crying at all just makes me cry more.

Stupid dying and coming back to life.

"It's real, huh?" Ron asks haltingly, his voice breaking in-between the words.

Maybe it was my tears, or Harry's obvious over-protectiveness that finally brought it home.

Harry rests his cheek on the top of my head, facing our friend, who still has his arms around us.

"Yeah, Mate. It's real. But it won't happen again. We can do it differently this time. All three of us."

His voice hardens at the end, and Ron tenses beside us. He steps out of our circle, his arms falling limply at his sides.

"Me?" He gulps. Even at this age, he knows Harry well enough to understand when Harry is threatening him. He's seen Harry threaten other people often enough.

"What did I do?" He demands. "I can't even remember! You can't be mad at me for something I didn't do yet.

He tightens his grip around me, as if he could protect me from something that can't be seen.

"You broke our hearts," Harry says flatly, and it's the first time I've heard him speak of it like that.

Something cracks inside my chest to hear him put it so baldly. I knew Ron broke mine, but I didn't leave my own misery long enough to consider what it did to Harry.

Ron's anger is starting to build, color brightening his cheeks. He tightens his fists at his side.

"I—"

Harry joins him in righteous indignation. He steps away from me, and the loss of him is unimaginable. He moves into Ron's personal space and shoves his finger in Ron's chest.

"You—"

"It doesn't matter," I interrupt them both, stopping a fight that won't end well for anyone. I put myself in between their bodies. Harry tries to push me behind him, and I give him my best glare. "It. Doesn't. Matter. Either it's in the past, or it hasn't happened at all. But either way, it makes no difference here."

I turn to stare down Ron, surprised again at how short he seems to me now.

"The only thing that counts is from this moment on. We told you Ron, because you're our best friend, and Harry needs you at his side. Something," I grouch, giving Harry a scathing look over my shoulder, "about spending too much time in the library when you're not around. But mark my words, Ronald. If you storm off and abandon him—us, one more time, I'll make the birds feel like you were having a spa day."

"Yeah, okay," he quickly agrees, nodding his head and backing away. His hands are in front of his chest as he hastily wards me off. He looks terrified and confused, and it's a positively adorable look on him.

Harry sniggers under his breath.

Silence falls between us, and while it's not as peaceful as it could be, at least I'm sure Ron isn't going to start screaming Mental as soon as we leave the room.

Harry runs his fingers over the back of my hand.

"We better get back to your folks, Ron." he says.

I discreetly wipe my eyes on the back of my finger, then Harry lifts his hands to my face, cupping my cheeks and using his thumbs to clear the tears from my skin.

I link my arms around his back again and rest my cheek on his chest.

Harry looks to his friend, who's watching us with curious eyes.

"Don't tell your folks, okay, Ron? Molly will have kittens."

Ron makes a strangled noise, another cookie half shoved into his mouth.

"I couldn't even if I wanted too, Mate. I still have no idea what's going on."

I swallow my laughter down against Harry's embrace.

Fair enough.

I'm not sure I really do either.

Dobby finds us five minutes later, ecstatic that we've discovered the Room of Requirement, but wringing his hands at how long it took before he looked for us here.

Dumbledore is ready for Harry.