Author's Note

Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

Any dialogue you recognize comes from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Several bits of conversation were rearranged to make it make more sense.

I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.


Ch 25: Breaking Point

'Can I see you?'

Hermione read the request for the tenth time. It had appeared over an hour ago, but she'd yet to respond. It was her turn to be on watch that night, but despite being bored out of her skull, she had no desire to trade insults with Snape. Not when they left her feeling raw and self-conscious in a way he'd not made her feel since they were first bound.

Subconsciously, she knew it was the Horcrux's influence doing a number on her, but it didn't alleviate or diminish the effects any.

'Because of the spell?'

'No.'

Hermione snorted, of course not. He wasn't interested in being with her, not even enough to lie, he was just checking that she was being a good little girl and sticking close to Harry since he needed to be kept informed – not that there was anything new to share.

November was nearly over, and apart from the revelation about the sword, nothing had changed. The boys bickered, then Harry brooded, Ron complained, and she read or snapped at the boys. Though if any of them were ever Splinched again, she was on it.

She'd taken advantage of Harry's belief that Voldemort was partial to Diagon Alley and convinced the boys they should at least take a look. They'd spent a week preparing disguises for Ron and Hermione. Harry would simply remain under his invisibility cloak. Harry believed the locket would give some sort of indication if it was in proximity to another Horcrux. Hermione didn't think it would, the piece of Voldemort's soul housed within the object had been irreparably damaged, and if that were the case, Voldemort would have known when Dumbledore destroyed the ring last summer. But going served her purpose, so she didn't argue.

Diagon Alley was not the place Hermione had remembered. There were few people about, and those that were hurried to their destinations, keeping their heads down as though afraid to draw any unwanted attention. A number of buildings were boarded up, even more than Hermione recalled from the summer prior to her sixth year. The sharp bite of gloom and despair cut deeper than the frigid breeze rustling pages of the Daily Prophet that littered the ground.

They'd walked around for close to two hours before Hermione had ducked into Florish and Blotts without a word of warning. They'd been furious with her, but they'd been unable to deny that the books she'd bought, The Complete Guide to Mediwizard Training, Years 1 and 2, could come in handy.

Aside from her little side trek, nothing eventful had happened.

'Probably best we not risk it then. Besides, you might be missed at the school.'

"Really?" The incredulous question floated from just beyond the ring of light spilling from the tent. Then, from the dark, Snape stepped forward, coming into view from between two tree branches. The late fall had already turned the majority of the remaining leaves brown, though a number littered the ground and crunched loudly beneath the heels of his boots.

"How'd you get through the spells?" Hermione demanded, worried her spells were insufficient to keep the Death Eaters out.

"Our binding. It nullifies Concealment Charms between us," he replied, frowning.

"Good to know." He flinched at her biting tone, but didn't comment. Instead, he scanned her from head to toe assessingly. She felt like an insect pinned on display before him, and pulled the blanket she was wrapped in tighter about her as though it could act as some sort of shield. "The boys are asleep but could wake at any moment, so you can't stay long."

"Your messages have become less frequent of late. I've been relying on Phineas each day to assure me you are alive."

It was true. She rarely wrote more than 'Nothing new,' these days, if she bothered to write anything at all. There seemed little point in elaborating or expounding on her continual failures. With each new nightmare or shift with the Horcrux darkening her thoughts, Hermione found it more and more difficult to trust her memories of her time with Snape. He likely didn't have the time or patience to hear about her ineptness. He'd harped on it for years. Her recent endeavors would merely confirm what he already knew to be true.

"The bond would have alerted you if it were otherwise," Hermione said flatly, looking him over. Dark smudges made his eyes look deeper set than she remembered, and the lank strands of his hair let her know he'd not bothered to shower, probably for several days.

Was it wrong that she felt a smidgen of comfort knowing he wasn't faring much better than she? Probably. They were on the same side, after all.

"I was worried," he admitted reluctantly.

"No need. As you can see, I'm fine," she replied glibly, forcing a smile.

"Fine," he drawled, sneering at her. "You look like a scarecrow."

See? You're nothing to him. He finds fault with your appearance. You never enticed him. It was all the spell. He probably had to take a potion or pretend he was with someone else to force his body to react to you.

The dark thoughts swarmed her mind, screaming louder than her thundering pulse, which had picked up the instant he appeared.

"My apologies. If I'd known you were coming, I'd have gotten dressed up," she snarked, her temper prickling. Anger was preferable to the rapid withering of her confidence.

"You aren't sleeping."

"Neither are you," she countered, fighting the urge to curl into herself and hide from his knowing gaze.

She was a mess. Tangled hair, worn face that would have horrified her dormmates. And all of that on top of having no new successes to report. She was utterly useless.

"I'm facing opposition from all sides at all hours of the day. What's your excuse?"

"Hard to sleep with nightmares," she said darkly, then added, "Crabbe," answering the unspoken question she read on his face.

"I should have killed him," Snape said, startling her. For a second, the voices in her head quieted just a bit.

"You're not a murderer."

"Some would vehemently disagree." He turned slightly, fading back into the shadow of the tree as though attempting to hide from his past sins.

"As if you've ever cared about anyone's opinion besides your own," she fired back, a little sharper than necessary.

"You're not yourself tonight," he announced, brow creasing.

Ready to be done with the impromptu visit before she felt any more worthless, she demanded, "Just say what you came to say already, Snape."

If his quick inhale was anything to go by, he was taken aback by her return to the use of his last name.

"Has Potter made any additional progress since the Ministry?"

"No. I would have told you if we had. Why are you asking?"

Silence, thick and heavy filled the space separating them. Then his mask crumbled, revealing his internal struggle. It was enough to temporarily mute the doubts in her mind and thaw her frozen heart a little.

Quietly, almost afraid to hear the answer, she asked, "Severus, what's happening at the school?"

"They're hurting the students. I'm headmaster, and I have professors hurting students…and…and there is nothing I can do about it," he said raggedly, voice shredded by his ravaged spirit.

Part of her longed to go to him. To wrap her arms around him and offer whatever strength she had for him to lean on. But in her current state, all she could picture was the swift rejection he'd surely deliver if she dared try.

"That's how it has to be," she said weakly, well aware he already knew as much, and that it was cold comfort indeed.

"Your friends aren't making my life any easier," he accused, lips thinning to the point they nearly vanished altogether.

"What are they doing?" she asked curiously, wondering how far Ginny had taken her suggestion.

"Poster campaigns, office break-ins, secret meetings, back-talking," he rattled off, ticking each item with a finger, "basically making menaces of themselves."

"Good on them," Hermione said, obviously pleased.

"No, it's not. I can't let it go, so it puts me in the position of having to discipline them further," Snape announced darkly, startling her. She'd completely overlooked that aspect of her idea.

He watched her expectantly. Well, she'd known he'd be furious with her about it. Guess it was only fitting if she tried to fix it for him however she could.

"Have Hagrid run the detentions. It's only Slytherins that would view that as a true punishment," Hermione tried, wincing at her inadequate suggestion, though that was hardly anything new lately.

"Albus said the same just tonight," he informed her wearily.

"Dumbledore?" Hermione blinked.

"His portrait." Oh. Of course. "He lectures me daily," Snape added, flinching slightly.

"How are you handling seeing him?"

She couldn't imagine being confronted with her demons on a daily basis in such a way. Then again, regularly hearing the Horcrux expound on all of her failings and faults wasn't too far off.

"Just penance, don't you think?"

"No. I think simply doing it, even for the right reasons, was difficult enough," Hermione acknowledged, wishing she had a better way to help him.

"Phineas mentioned you'd had no luck today," he said, making it clear he wished to change the subject. Probably he thought she pitied him, and he hated that.

"We tried the orphanage he grew up in, but the property has been converted. Harry hadn't thought we would have any luck there anyways," she said, frowning. Why had he come if he already knew? Hadn't he said he came for an update?

"And apart from today?" he ventured, looking everywhere except at her.

"I think you'd have better luck helping Neville begin a career in potions," she sighed.

"That bad?"

"We haven't the first clue what or where to try next," she admitted dejectedly. "Though I'm beginning to think we should try that forest in Albania You-Know-Who was rumored to have spent years hiding out in. He must have had some sort of anchor tying him there."

"Have you any idea how many forests there are in Albania?"

"If you've got a better idea, I'd love to hear it," she snapped, clutching the locket. It'd begun steadily pulsing against her chest, the pace accelerating in tandem with her rising anger. "Is that it? Because if you've just come to criticize me, I'll pass."

"What are you holding there?" he asked sharply, coming towards her all of a sudden.

"The Horcrux. Slytherin's locket," she answered, showing him the cursed heirloom.

"You shouldn't be wearing that. I can feel the Dark Magic," he said, a deep crease forming on his brow as he studied it, not daring to actually reach for it.

"It's rather unpleasant," Hermione admitted drolly.

"I can tell," he drawled.

"Because I wasn't overjoyed to see you?"

"To put it bluntly, yes," he answered seriously.

"Git," she fired back, disliking the idea that he saw her as a little girl constantly swooning over him. No wonder he didn't want her.

"Albus said you need –"

"The sword of Gryffindor to destroy it? Yes, we figured that bit out, thanks. The sword is imbued with basilisk venom," Hermione said sharply, needing him to know she wasn't completely witless.

Except she was. She was a bloody fool. In the couple weeks since they'd figured out they needed the sword, she'd not once thought to ask Snape for it directly.

"Clever," he said, not noticing her moment of self-flagellation. "I should have known you'd sort it out on your own. Though I do wish you hadn't asked your friends to take it."

His comment confused her enough to make her start, dropping the mental whip she'd been hitting herself with. "What are you talking about?"

"That wasn't you?"

"What wasn't? What happened?"

"Nothing," he said, recovering and brushing off her probing.

"Severus," she said warningly.

"Albus thought you'd told Miss Weasly, Miss Lovegood, and Mr. Longbottom to take the sword from my office tonight," he said, disapproval making his body language even more severe than usual. It radiated from him, demonstrating precisely why he was the most feared professor at Hogwarts.

"They have it?" she asked excitedly. Now if they only had a way to –

"No," he said, dispelling her hopes before they really got going, "but the resulting consequences prompted Albus to confide your need for it to me."

"Any chance you brought it with you?" she asked suddenly, hoping for the first time that his visit was about more than making her feel bad about her lack of progress.

"It doesn't work like that or I would have," he said, making it clear he believed she should have already known better.

She didn't. Reluctantly, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Godric Gryffindor spelled the blade. If you try to use the sword without earning it through a courageous act first, the sword will vanish when you go to use it," he lectured, adopting the tone she was familiar with from years of his lessons.

"Lovely. How do we manage that?" she spat, angry that their list of things that needed doing was growing, not shrinking. She wasn't used to being unable to be productive and accomplish things in a timely manner. It was infuriating.

Hermione willed herself to have patience, knowing her temper was short from both the Horcrux and lack of sleep. Dreams of Crabbe left her on edge and constantly irritable.

It didn't work.

"I suppose we will have to orchestrate a plausible scenario that allows one of you to prove yourselves," Snape said, pursing his lips at her show of temper. Great. More disapproval.

"Take your time," she said sarcastically.

"Hermione –"

The sound of one of the boys moving around carried to them. Probably, one had just woken to relieve her so she could try, and fail, to catch a few hours of sleep.

"Go," she hissed, but he had already sunk back into the shadows, their arms welcoming him home.


A few days later, Ron cornered her by a tree some distance from the tent when she'd gone for a walk, needing a bit of space from the others.

"He doesn't have any sort of plan for us, does he?"

"It's the same plan we've had all along," Hermione said, shrugging, "we have one Horcrux. That's something."

"But we can't destroy it," Ron pointed out darkly. "Only the sword can do that, and we can't get our hands on it."

It wasn't Ron's fault he didn't know she was trying to work with Snape to get them the sword.

She didn't even need to look to know he was wearing the Horcrux. It was the same for all of them when they did, only the negative mattered. Only their failures held merit.

"I've been trying to think of different means, but the sword still seems the safest bet," Hermione said, offering him what little hope she could. The attempt was as weak as the tea she'd brewed from them that morning thanks to having to reuse bags.

"Except we don't have the sword," Ron countered, roughly scuffing his toe in the dirt, "and considering you said we had to prove ourselves to even be able to use it, I don't see that being an option anytime soon."

She'd pretended to read that in Hogwarts, A History, knowing neither boy would ever bother reading for themselves to discover her lie. But she'd had to come up with something to account for learning the information Snape had given her.

Annoyed, her temper always a match tip away from igniting, she snapped, "You could try helping come up with a plan for us to get it instead of just reminding us all how we're failing."

"There's nothing to suggest! That's the problem," Ron yelled, throwing his hands up. "We can't just show up at the castle – they'll kill Harry! It's what they want us to do!"

"Well, we can't make any progress until we get that sorted. We'll just have to keep trying. It's all we can do unless Harry can figure something more out," Hermione said, trying to mask her own doubts.

"Right. I definitely see that happening sometime soon," Ron muttered.

"It isn't as though Vol –"

"Don't say his name!"

"Oh, fine!" she huffed, rolling her eyes, "You-Know-Who left a detailed record of how he tried to make himself immortal."

"So we're here doing nothing while Snape is terrorizing the school," Ron said, admitting the true source of his foul mood.

"I doubt he is terrorizing it," she said crossly, pursing her lips to keep from saying too much and giving herself away.

"Lavender isn't like you. She won't know what to do," Ron said, burying his face in his hands.

"She doesn't need you saving her, Ron. She's got to learn to stand up for herself at some point," Hermione said firmly, though sympathy welled within her at his plight.

"If Harry would stop obsessing over that thief and just try –"

"Look, I'm frustrated by the lack of progress too. I didn't expect this to be easy, but I had thought we'd have made more progress by now than we have. But that doesn't –"

"What are you guys doing out here?" Harry called, approaching them quickly.

"Nothing!" she squeaked, jumping out of her skin at his sudden appearance.

"Right," Harry said flatly, glancing back and forth between her and Ron, a frown turning his lips down.

She had a feeling he'd heard more than he'd admitted to that night in the tent when they'd puzzled out the need for the sword. Ever since he'd tried to interrupt any time he saw her and Ron talking, as though afraid to give them a chance to talk about the ever growing doubts plaguing them.

"Honestly, Harry, we aren't. I think we're all just sick of staring at the inside of the tent and needed a bit of fresh air," Hermione tried, smiling weakly.

"Says the girl who would live in the Hogwarts library if allowed," Ron added unhelpfully.

She glared at him, willing him to shut up as she smoothly replied, "The library has books for entertainment, the tent has…ants."

It was the truth too. The boys were messy, never cleaning up after themselves, Ron in particular. As though he expected her to do it for them. Probably because she was a girl. It was the same with the cooking.


"This is disgusting," Ron grumbled, picking at his food. Hermione glared at him, willing him to simply shut up and eat it anyways. Not that she was having better luck stomaching it. Each bite was like swallowing dirt and charcoal.

"What do you think it means if they were friends?" Harry asked, pushing the flakey bits of blackened fish around on his plate.

"Hmm?" she hummed, scrapping a burnt piece off her own before shoveling an extra large bite into her mouth. Mostly to prove a point to Ron. He grimaced at her, but wisely refrained from commenting.

"I keep thinking about it, and I can't see how or when they could have been," Harry replied, clueing her in.

Grindelwald. Again. Well, it was better than when he was fixating on the thief he'd seen in Voldemort's mind. Though not by much.

"Harry, you're supposed to be figuring out where we should try searching next, not obsessing over who Dumbledore may or may not have once spent time with!"

"Yeah, but, Hermione –"

Frustrated, Hermione smacked the table, demanding his full attention. "Harry, we don't have time to waste worrying about a rumor that has nothing to do with –"

"But what if it does?" he retorted, a feverish light burning in his emerald eyes. It was one she was all too familiar with, and one that never boarded well for them. "What if Dumbledore wasn't who I thought he was?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, giving up on his dinner and pushing his plate away.

"He kept secrets, guys. I've told you…."

"We've all got secrets, mate," Ron remarked, turning to her before meaningfully adding, "Right, Hermione?"

"What secrets?" Harry asked, face pinching in confusion as he too looked to her for answers.

Her heart rate sped up, and anger simmered in her gut that Ron would dare try to put her on the spot like this because the pampered little brat was hungry. He'd been asking about the parchment and her parents more and more often of late, seeming intrigued by the mystery when there was little else to focus on.

She was just about to tell him off when she heard the unmistakable sound of voices nearby.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, holding her breath as she strained to make them out.

"Nice try," Ron said coolly, crossing his arms.

"No, I'm serious!" Hermione hissed, waving her arms and shushing the boys. "Quiet."

Within seconds she'd located a pair of extendable ears for each of them, and they were listening to Ted Tonks, Dean Thomas, Dirk Cresswell, and the goblin Griphook discussing being on the run. Hermione had to will herself not to react or betray even a tiny hint of emotion when they mentioned Snape and how he'd "unknowingly" hidden a fake sword of Gryffindor in Gringotts, and how Ginny and the others had tried to break in and steal it. She'd already known about it, but the boys hadn't, so luckily they were too caught up in the story to pay her much notice.

As soon as the party had moved out of hearing range, Harry leapt up, shouting, "Ginny – the sword –"

"I know!" Hermione cried, trying to muster up the proper amount of enthusiasm.

"I wish we could find out what happened to the real sword," Harry said wistfully, giving Hermione an idea. Hadn't Snape said that Phineas was updating him about the trio? He was probably hiding out in her bag right then.

"The sword? That's all you got –" Ron started, speaking through clenched teeth, but Hermione cut him off.

"Here…we…are…" she said, digging out the former headmaster's ornate frame and propping it up on the table, their disgusting dinners forgotten. "If somebody swapped the real sword for the fake while it was in Dumbledore's office, Phineas Nigellus would have seen it happen, he hangs right beside the case!"

"When were you in Dumbledore's office?" Ron demanded, scowling at her as he caught yet another factoid she'd accidentally let slip.

"Never-you-mind that now," Hermione said, waving his question off. "Er – Phineas? Phineas Nigellus? Professor Black? Please could we talk to you? Please?"

"'Please' always helps," he lectured, smirking at her, "even if you believe your connections entitle you to special –"

"Obscuro!" Hermione cried, cutting off whatever sly innuendo he was trying to make about her and Snape. That was the last thing she needed. Ron was too suspicious as it was.

"What – how dare – what are you –?"

"I'm very sorry, Professor Black, but it's a necessary precaution!" Hermione said, not the least bit sincerely. It was a warning, and she hoped he understood as much.

"First a gag, and now a blindfold! Remove this foul addition at once! Remove it I say!"

"Did you actually gag him?" Harry asked, grinning at her.

"Who is that? Is that the elusive Mr. Potter? She threatened me – that's insult enough, I say!" he announced indignantly.

"He disliked being removed from his home, and I didn't want to hear his protests," Hermione replied unrepentantly, shrugging.

"Of course I protested! And after I helped you," he raged, shaking his fist in the direction he heard her voice coming from.

Hermione watched him turning his head, trying to peer under the edge of the band she'd covered his eyes with. Quickly, she redirected the conversation. "We've got a couple questions to ask you – about the sword of Gryffindor."

"I'm surprised you aren't asking someone closer to the issue," he said, smirking tauntingly.

"What we really need to know, sir, is where the real sword is. We've just learned the one taken to Gringotts is a fake," she said, ignoring his baiting. So much for hoping the blindfold would do a damn bit of good in keeping his mouth shut about Snape and her.

"I was under the impression you already knew the answer to that," Phinaes said slyly, grinning evilly.

"If we knew, we wouldn't be asking, would we?" Harry retorted, giving Hermione a look that clearly expected her to be sharing in his annoyance. She nodded along.

"The true sword was taken from the school expressly for your use, Mr. Potter. I imagine you will find it in due time," he finally announced, seeming to realize Hermione wouldn't play along with him.

"Dumbledore! He must have removed it before he died," Harry declared, nearly vibrating with excitement and hope. "He's hidden it where he knows I'll look!"

"He would be familiar with the Ministry's red tape and bureaucracy," Hermione allowed, having not considered the possibility previously, but grateful all the same that Harry immediately assumed Dumbledore had taken it for him.

"So you agree. He knew they wouldn't hand it over, so he took precautions. But why not give it to me before, or tell me where he's left it?"

"I've told you, Harry, it must be earned to use it. It says so in Hogwarts, A History," she said knowingly, reminding him of what she'd already informed them of. "Even if Ginny had managed to sneak it out, it wouldn't have done any good."

"Yes. That silly girl acted most unwisely there –"

"Shut up about my sister," Ron said menacingly. Hermione blinked, almost having forgotten he was there, he'd been so quiet, only speaking to question her slip of the tongue.

"Who else is there? Your tone displeases me! The girl and her friends were foolhardy in the extreme. Thieving from the headmaster!"

"They weren't thieving. That sword isn't Snape's," Harry said, quick to discount Snape's current position. His hatred of the man extended to being willfully obtstaniant in all things even remotely related to Snape.

"It belongs to Professor Snape's school. Exactly what claim did the Weasley girl have upon it? She deserved her punishment, as did the idiot Longbottom and the Lovegood oddity!"

"Neville is not an idiot and Luna is not an oddity!" Hermione said shrilly, defensive on their behalf. Particularly Luna's. The girl had proven herself to be so much more, to the point she was even loyal to Snape and willing to give him the benefit of the doubt when no one else would.

"But you are wasting my time, Madam," he said dismissively, undeterred by her scolding, "when you could easily –"

"Never mind that! How did Snape punish Ginny, Neville, and Luna?" Hermione asked desperately, sensing he was impatient and bored enough to spill about her just for the entertainment value it would cause.

"I would show Professor Snape I bit more respect, were I you, considering the role he's playing," he said loftily, trying again to peer around the sides of the blindfold.

"Never," Harry said vehemently, acid and burning hatred the thickest wool cloak around the single word.

"What arrogance and disdain!"

"What did Snape do to them?" Harry demanded, balling his fists as though he intended to punch Snape for whatever it was.

"Professor Snape sent them into the Forbidden Forest, to do some work for the oaf, Hagrid," he said, depraved delight making his lips curl at the thought of potentially disastrous outcomes. He really was a Slytherin at heart. And one from a different age. He'd probably have gotten on well with Umbridge and Filch.

"That's nothing then…they've faced plenty worse than the Forbidden Forest, big deal!" Harry announced delightedly.

"Big Deal?" Ron demanded hotly. "Big deal? Harry, that's my sister you could care less about there."

"You know that's not how I meant it," Harry said defensively, though he'd jumped up as though physically backpedaling once he caught sight of the rage mottling Ron's face.

"She was punished for trying to help you. What if she tries again and next time it's not Hagrid in charge of her punishment? Did you think of that?" Ron yelled, standing to face off with Harry as well.

"Perhaps you should head back to the castle," Hermione said uncomfortably.

They'd all felt the tension building for months now, and it was obvious Ron was anxious for a fight. This had been just the excuse he needed to reach that breaking point.

"No…I guess I didn't. I was just relieved to know she was all right," Harry said weakly, a helpless look coming over him as he glanced to Hermione for support.

"And miss the dissension in the ranks?" Phineas said merrily.

"Go on," she ordered, hoping he'd heed her authority as the headmaster's wife and listen. "Now."

She was surprised, and not a little relieved when he did. Though he grumbled rather loudly as he left, slowly exiting the side of the frame as Ron cried, "All right? He never said she was all right! All he said was that Snape punished her!"

"He wouldn't hurt her, Ron," Hermione interjected practically, and more than a little defensively. "He wouldn't harm a student."

"Did you forget he's a murderer, Hermione? He killed the headmaster, what's a student to him after that?"

"N-no, I-I just…," she stuttered, feeling like the floor was shifting beneath her feet.

They shouldn't be fighting. This shouldn't be happening. They couldn't afford to make things worse.

"None of them are safe there," Ron said, despair twisting his face and making her breath catch at the sight. He was terrified. Truly, and utterly terrified for those at Hogwarts.

"Ginny is strong. She can take care of herself," Harry insisted, though even to her it came out sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than the others.

"She shouldn't have to! " Ron spat, slamming his balled fists against the table angrily. "She's just a kid…and what about the others, huh? What about those like Lavender – who's looking after them?"

The silence of the room following the question was pierced by tiny plops hinting the roof of the tent. The rain that had been threatening all day had finally arrived.

"I don't know," Harry said faintly, bowing between the weight of his burden and the truth of his statement.

"That's right. Just add it to the list of stuff you don't know," Ron accused, shoving the table towards Harry a bit. It didn't move much, heavy as it was, but between the action and the words, Harry ignited.

"I don't know? I don't know?"

Each tiny pling and splat of individual drops began to blur together, their frequency and intensity increasing in time with the rising tempers within the tent. They beat a steady staccato, like a drum hailing the arrival of troops marching across a battlefield.

"It's not like I'm having the time of my life here, you know, with my arm mangled and nothing to eat and freezing my backside off every night. I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running round a few weeks, we'd have achieved something," Ron ranted, listing his grievances as though they were Harry's fault, and they hadn't all been equally miserable this whole time. "I thought we'd actually be making things better for the people we care about. Not hiding and sitting on our arses all day."

"Ron," Hermione warned, knowing if he didn't stop now, this was going to get a whole lot worse.

"I thought you knew what you'd signed up for," Harry said tightly, breathing rapidly as his temper fought the leash he was only barely managing to hold it with.

"Yeah, I thought I did too," Ron agreed, clenching his jaw. The flush of fury highlighting his cheeks deepened, spreading down his neck and below the collar of his shirt.

Hermione wrung her hands, wanting to say something to smooth things over, but she could think of nothing. Attempting would do nothing more than give each a fresh outlet, and result in her being blamed and yelled at as well. Maybe it'd be best for them to get their issues all out in the open to be dealt with and sorted through.

"So what part of it isn't living up to your expectations? Did you think we'd be staying in five-star hotels? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you'd be back to Lavender by Christmas, Won-Won?"

"Don't talk about her like that! Just because you could care less about Ginny doesn't mean the rest of us are as damaged and heartless," Ron said bitterly.

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, knowing he was wrong.

Harry staggered back, a wounded look flashing across his face before he shut it down, masking his pain with anger.

"Don't, Hermione. You know I'm right. You said so yourself. We thought you had a plan, Harry. We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!"

"Harry, I didn't –" she tried, but he was ignoring her, too focused on giving Ron back a bit of what he was dishing out.

"Well sorry to let you down. I've been straight with you from the start, I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in case you haven't noticed, we've found one Horcrux –"

"Yeah, and we're about as near getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them – nowhere effing near, in other words!"

"Take off the locket, Ron. Please take it off. You wouldn't be talking like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day," Hermione tried, desperate to deescalate the situation before it decayed any further. This was not the productive conversation she'd been hoping for. Nowhere close.

"Yeah, he would, because he's right, Hermione. I've seen the pair of you talking," Harry declared, finally dolling out and directing a bit his anger her way.

"Harry, it's not like that," she tried, holding her hands up to placate him the way one might approach a wild animal that had been wounded and was likely to lash out, those trying to help unrecognizable.

"Don't lie! You keep lying, and I'm tired of it. This is one time I'm not letting it go. You know you've said the same," Ron screamed, turning on her as well.

"We're all frustrated, that's all," she said, panic making her start to hyperventilate. This was all wrong. Her words, so soft, were practically drowned out by the steady pounding of the downpour happening outside.

"So why are you still here?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.

"Harry!" she snapped.

"Search me," Ron answered, shrugging carelessly.

"Ron!" she growled, incredulous and frustrated with both boys.

"Go home then," Harry suggested coldly. Never had Hermione heard him sound so final. She'd seen him in all manner of states of the years, from furious to devastated to ecstatic to moody, but never had he been like this.

Ron seemed to sense it as well, because he fired off a threat, "Yeah, maybe I will! There are people that need me. I can do a hell of a lot more good out there with them than I can following you round, doing nothing."

"At least we're trying," Harry said, "you just want things to be easy."

Hermione shook her head. They couldn't actually be talking about this. Ron wasn't going to leave. He wouldn't abandon them like that. Not when they needed him. They'd made a promise. They'd promised to help Harry. To see this through to the end – whatever that may entail.

"You don't get what it's like to worry about them," Ron countered bleakly, then turned to Hermione, pointedly asking, "And your parents are safely out of the way, right?"

"My parents are dead!" Harry screamed, hurt that Ron seemed to be using the fact as a point against him. Hermione didn't think he'd meant it like that at all, more that he was trying to make Harry understand where he was coming from.

"And mine could be going the same way!"

"Then GO! Go back to them, pretend you've got over your spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and –"

For Ron, that was one step too far, and he raised his wand to fire a curse at Harry. Acting on instinct, Hermione cried, "Protego!"

A shimmering wall sprang up between them, leaving Ron alone on one side with her and Harry on the other. He took in the sight and nodded, beginning to turn from them.

Hermione's heart lurched as it finally dawned on her that he really was leaving.

"Leave the Horcrux," Harry ordered.

Without a word, Ron ripped it off and flung it onto the table. The metal bounced and clinked as the chain settled.

"What? No!" she refused, looking from Harry to where Ron had exited the tent. He was a statue. He had no intention of stopping Ron.

Gasping, Hermione took off after her departing friend. Cold rain bombarded her, drenching her in seconds as she raced after him. Each drop was a frozen needle piercing her to the core.

She was shivering when she reached the place he'd stopped, just outside the perimeter of their wards. "Ron, you're not really going? We promised to help Harry!"

He didn't respond, just turned on the spot and Disapparated.

For some time she stood there, staring at the empty space. It wasn't until her bones felt infused with ice and she was shivering so violently she feared she'd break apart at the seams that she retraced her steps.

"He's g-g-gone! D-disapparated!" she stuttered, teeth rattling as her body shook.

"You didn't go with him," Harry said, true surprise contorting his features.

"Of course not. I said I'd help you, and I will – even when you're a gigantic git!" she railed, turning her back on him and crawling into bed, uncaring that her wet clothes were chafing her skin and drenching her blankets. She welcomed the misery as she cried herself to sleep out of pure frustration, knowing her nightmares would wake her soon enough.