Harry sat by the kitchen table, looking out into the night that embraced the house.

Nothing was easy, hiding, getting food on a daily basis and at the same time worrying about reality and their own lives, and Horcruxes and whatever else.

They still only had one.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had spent at least over two weeks in the dusty house, which wasn't all that dusty anymore because Hermione couldn't stand the mess.

But that house had become something of a camp, a place that felt comfortable. Tomorrow morning though, they would leave it behind, the main reason they hadn't already was to give Hermione and Ron time to bounce back.

Even if all Hermione took to get back to her normal self again was sleep and books, Ron however looked worse for every day and at times he reminded Harry of Lupin on his worst days.

A slam reverberating through the wooden table threw him out of his chair and daydreaming, his reflexes completely failed him and he ended up on his back, his shoulder slamming into the table leg.

Hermione laughed. "Oh my God, are you okay?"

"No thanks to you. Are you trying to kill people?" Harry grumbled, annoyed as he was getting up from the floor and massaging his shoulder.

Lately she had been up to a horribly mischievous mood. Her favorite past time except for reading books and clinging around his neck seemed to be pulling pranks on both him and Ron, none which either of them found amusing.

"I didn't mean to startle you so!" she smiled, placing a hasty kiss on his lips. "Did you hurt yourself badly?"

He glanced on what she had slammed into the table: a massive, dusty book.

"Yeah, kind of!" he glared at her, coughing at the dust the book accumulated.

"Aw", Hermione put a hand on his aching shoulder, massaging it in a rather playful manner, her smile growing a tad bigger. The brow on Harry's face furrowed ever so slightly.

"I'm sure you'll be okay", she said with a not-so-convincing nod.

Harry shook his head, convinced that Hermione did try to make him break his neck one of these terrible days.

"Anyway, I've figured it out!" Hermione swiftly pulled out a chair and slammed the book open.

Something musty and bitter lingered in the air, a strange odor but he imagined it would feel the same to grind decomposing grapes against your teeth, the very same off-putting smell exuded from Hermione.

Her hair was all messy, too. What had she been doing?

He leaned in over her shoulder, the awful odor making him a tiny bit queasy.

"Figured what out?" said Harry.

"Horcruxes!" said Hermione loudly and brimming with excitement. "Harry, I think I've got it!"

Harry stared quizzingly at her, then his hand shot down into his pockets and pulled out the golden medallion he had taken from Umbridge.

He glanced at it.

It hummed in his hand, almost as if it tried to talk to him but at the same time it was so quiet it might as well come from the fridge.

"We have absolutely no information to go on, Hermione", he said, feeling downcast and defeated. "What are we supposed to do? Comb through all of England for Horcruxes?"

Hermione scowled at him. "No listen, don't you remember what you told me about Riddle's diary?"

A very foggy, yet awfully clear memory of giant teeth and a massive slithering body flashed in his memory.

And the taunting memory of Tom Riddle – Voldemort – killing him, if it hadn't been for his now crushed loyalty to Dumbledore.

"Hard to forget. Part of Riddle was in that diary."

"Right!" Hermione nodded and pointed at him, emphasizing his statement. "And you impaled the diary with…"

"A basilisk fang", said Harry blankly, at a loss for what she was going with this.

But at the same time, he was intrigued.

Hermione stood up, clearly bursting with excitement to tell him of her discovery, rapidly fluttering through the pages until she stopped abruptly on a particular page.

"Hear me out…", she said, her finger tracing along a line in the book. "And right before that, you killed the Basilisk with the sword of Gryffindor! And because it's goblin-made – oh seriously Harry, we covered goblins in our third year – anyway, goblin-made items absorbs what makes them stronger, in this instance, Basilisk venom."

A little light-bulb lit up in Harry's head, sparking hope within him.

"So you're saying… the sword can destroy Horcruxes?" he said, startled at the ever so slight enthusiasm in his own voice.

"Yes!"

He smiled broadly, flabbergasted.

Suddenly they weren't fumbling around as much in the dark.

"I—Hermione, you're so brilliant I – I could kiss you."

Hermione's face flushed.

"Hold that thought, mister", she said with a short laugh. "So, further elaborating on this, I've come to the conclusion that we would need those Infinity Stones to gather the Horcruxes instead of going on some kind of twisted easter egg hunt!"

Hermione was panting from the sheer excitement reflecting in her face. But Harry saw a giant gaping hole in her plan.

"Why not use the Stones to destroy the Horcruxes and Voldemort then and there? Get it over with?" Harry said.

"We wouldn't want to leave anything up to chance", said Hermione quietly, not breaking eye contact with him while her smile slowly waned.

"Seems so complicated."

Hermione scoffed. "Do you want all of this to be for nothing because it seems 'complicated' to you? What about everyone that sacrificed themselves to get you were you are? Your parents, Cedric, Sirius, Mad-Eye, Dumbledore, presumably Tonks, your aunt—"

"Okay, okay you don't have to—God Hermione! I get it! I was just thinking out-loud."

An awkward stilted silence fell. The only noticeable noise in the room came from the loud grandfather clock on the floor, ticking away. The moment they had just shared had slipped away.

They stared at each other for what must've been minutes, but in reality, it probably wasn't even that, maybe seconds.

Every little movement Hermione made was blatantly obvious, everything from letting her fingers slip away from the book and straightening her back to her nostrils flaring.

Harry clenched his jaw. Hearing the name of those who had died for his sake hit him hard in his chest. A part of him detested Hermione for casting the blame on him, for making this all his fault when Dumbledore and even she herself had played a role in this.

He wanted to step out of the room and leave her with her thoughts, but something kept him from acting on his impulses.

Hermione watched him, fear visible in her eyes. Fear for watching him have another mental breakdown or something worse?

He swallowed, keenly aware of Hermione lowering her guard and letting her shoulders sink down, perhaps noticing his brief moment of hostility – was it that obvious?

Looking at each other, they waited for something. Perhaps for one of them to make their next move or say something, anything.

Hermione's voice cracked the silence. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

He advanced calmly on her and put his hands on her shoulders. He hadn't really noticed, but she had tied her hair into a knot behind her back. "It has been a long day. But it was really brilliant… not perfect, but if that's what the brains of the group says, I think we should do it."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione chuckled. "No, it's your decision. We follow you, Harry."

"Then I say that's my decision", Harry said with a shrug, unable to return her smile.

Her hand brushed past his face, and he felt his pulse rising to dangerous levels… he didn't know whether or not she was feeling the same thing.

Judging from that mouth hanging half open, her warm breath wafting in his face, as if anticipating something and not being able to contain that anticipation, she wasn't exactly in full control over herself.

Within the minute he was all over her, his mouth against hers, pushing her against the wall.

She sniggered from the corner of her mouth and knocked over one of the flowerpots, dragging him with her down on the table; the pot hit the floor with a deafening crash.

The table made a worrying creaking sound as Hermione shifted her weight over onto him, his foot got caught in another plant and dragged it down.

"Careful there, bug-boy", she said with a mischievous grin all over her face.

A chuckle got stuck in Harry's throat.

"What'd you call me?"

Her grin grew ever bigger as he moved his face closer, kissing her on the mouth. The moment was certainly odd, Hermione unbuttoning the grey fuzzy sweater she had 'borrowed', Harry running his hand over her back, all the while the ticking clock seemed to become louder and louder.

Ron's voice pierced the air.

"Oh for—crikey! Could you—is this really the place for it?"

Hermione pulled away so quickly she bumped into the wall behind her. She burrowed her face shamefully in her hands rather than looking at Ron.

Ron glared at Harry, then at Hermione even if his eyelids were practically shut and he was dragging his arms in the ground, reminding Harry of a sloth.

Ron shook his head, rubbing his face.

"Aright well, have fun. I'm knackered, going to bed. Night."

He turned and vanished out of sight.

"Harry", whispered Hermione.

She was still concealing her face.

"Yeah?"

Harry's eyes were pulled towards the grandfather clock, striking elven o'clock. Why was it getting even louder? The sound drowned out Ron's loud footsteps in the staircase, even his own thoughts.

"There's—"

The noise was getting into his head, driving him nuts why wouldn't it stop?

And everything fell apart; the windows blew out along with the power; a loud crash flipped over the table; a flash of green barely missed their heads as Hermione dragged him down on the floor with her.