A/N: To the hunt, we go! Due to how I want the chapters to play out, my timing for the first few weeks of their hunt will probably differ from canon. Further chapters will make that easier to understand, but it won't heavily affect the plot, so don't worry. Also, from what I've gathered, I've been making some small mistakes about the fine details of the story. For example, I have mentioned a few times that Hermione uses a charm sometimes for her hair, when in the actual series, she uses Sleekeazy's. I promise I have read the books, I'm just a tad thick. Sorry for the long author note, but honestly, they'll probably all be this long. I like to ramble. Thank you, as always, for reading and reviewing!

Chapter 17 - Back at Grimmauld Pl.

It had been two hours. Two hours since the wedding, like the ministry, was infiltrated with Death Eaters. Ron, Hermione and Harry had only arrived at Grimmauld Place about an hour ago, having fought with two Death Eaters at a cafe that they quickly identified and wiped the memories of. Ron hated this old house, it was even creepier with only three people to occupy it, but at least it was safe.

They were sitting in the living room, Hermione was repacking the beaded bag that she had so cleverly brought along. Harry was sitting on one of the armchairs, studying the snitch that Dumbledore had left for him. Ron felt sorry for Harry, that brilliant relationship he had with their headmaster and then to be given a bloody snitch? Ron felt he had come off better with his Delumanator. The room was silent, in fact Ron thought the last time anyone had spoken was when his father's patronus, about forty minutes ago, had told them that they were smart to escape and that the rest of the Weasleys were safe and well. No one had really spoken since, there was so much to discuss yet nothing to say.

Ron felt his eyes drooping shut as he stared unseeingly at the dying fire. He looked back towards Hermione, she was biting down on her bottom lip in concentration as she refolded their clothes. He wondered where she'd be sleeping tonight, assumedly in her and Ginny's room, but the thought of her sleeping by herself whilst Death Eaters were out hunting them didn't settle well with him.

"Think I'll head up to bed." He stated. Harry just nodded in response, he had a faraway look in his eyes as he absently played with the snitch in his hand.

"I, I, could we all sleep in the drawing room tonight, please? I think it would be safest." Hermione asked timidly from her place on the floor. All Ron wanted to do was go and comfort her, she looked pale with worry. He refrained, though, thinking of Harry.

Ron smiled with relief at her suggestion. "Course." He replied simply.

Hermione stood up and handed him three sleeping bags. "Will you put these in there?"

Ron took them and used their proximity as an opportunity to hold her hand, she looked up at his eyes, something she hadn't done since the wedding. Her eyes were filled with concern, so Ron gave her hand a quick squeeze. She sighed and smiled before he left to walk down the hallway.

The drawing room was cobwebby and dark, much like every other room in this eerie house. With a whish of his wand, the dust and mess cleared away. The room was mostly bare; it had a sofa which was mostly it for the furniture, apart from a piano and a desk that both probably hadn't been used in decades. Thinking quickly, Ron set up some cushions on the floor for Harry and plopped his sleeping bag down on them. On the sofa, he carefully placed Hermione's sleeping bag down, fluffing the cushions at where her head would rest. Pleased with his attempt to comfort her, physically if nothing else, Ron set up his own sleeping bag in the middle of his best friends'. Mainly so he could be close to Hermione, if anything was to happen out of the ordinary.

Not even bothering to change into his pyjamas, Ron crashed to the floor that he would probably find uncomfortable if he had any more energy than what he did after the day they had just endured.

Hermione would've joined Ron right there and then if she wasn't worried about Harry. He had been exceptionally quiet since they arrived at 12, Grimmauld Place about an hour ago. The evening seemed a blur to Hermione; one minute she was dancing with Ron and the next it was Death Eater after Death Eater booming in. She was so worried about the Weasleys, so when they received that messenger patronus from Mr Weasley telling them that they were okay, Hermione felt the largest weight lift off of her shoulders, especially when Arthur had told them that leaving was the right thing to do. At the time it seemed the only thing to do, but in hindsight Hermione wondered whether it was smart to leave and take the two boys, leaving everyone in the dark of their whereabouts.

The coffee shop was a complete disaster, Merlin knew how they even found them, not even Harry should've had the trace on him anymore. Hermione deemed themselves fortunate that they managed to arrive at Grimmauld Place mostly unharmed, aside from a few scratches, but that was nothing compared to what could've happened to them if the two Death Eaters were successful.

Hermione had spent the majority of the summer before her fifth year at Hogwarts in the Black family home, most of that time was spent cleaning and redecorating. And although there were about eight people working at it, the house never quite felt right. She would never tell Harry that, however, after all, this was his last connection to Sirius and Hermione could only imagine the pain Harry had felt once his godfather had died. And besides, this house wasn't all too bad, it was actually rather large and somewhat cosy, once the fire was lit. It was just the fact that Snape was - and as far as they knew, still is - a Secret-Keeper to this house, so it really wasn't completely safe for them to be staying there after their old Professor revealed his true allegiance at their end of sixth year.

It had been about thirty minutes since Ron headed to bed, Hermione kept glancing tentatively towards Harry to try and sought out any signs of tiredness. He should be exhausted like the rest of them, but he seemed to have far too much on his mind to even feel tired. It was about half past midnight, though, and Hermione decided it was best that he at least tried to get to sleep.

"I wonder how Ron's getting on in the drawing room. I'm pretty tired myself." She said lightly, stretching her arms above her head.

"Yeah, same." Harry mumbled and stood up from his armchair. Hermione handed him his pyjamas with a bright smile and then realised that Ron hadn't even taken his yet. Her heart already started racing at the possibility he had just ditched the clothes he was wearing to sleep. Admonishing herself in her head for acting like a randy pervert, Hermione gathered her own pyjamas and changed in the bathroom.

The drawing room was smaller than Hermione remembered but she didn't think that that was a bad thing, it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room, she didn't want to wake Ron or disturb Harry who had already settled into his sleeping bag. Hermione's eyebrows furrowed as she searched for her own, she was taken aback to find it on the sofa rather than the floor. Looking over to Harry, Hermione realised he had a few large cushions underneath him, but when she looked to Ron, who was sound asleep, she realised that he had nothing but his sleeping bag and the cold floor to sleep on. Her heart warmed at the gesture and it made her wonder why they ever made that ridiculous pact to keep their relationship static for the moment.

Unable to hide the grateful smile from her face, Hermione leaned down and kissed his unconscious form on the cheek before climbing into her sleeping bag that was set up on the sofa. Tomorrow, she would ensure that Harry or Ron slept on it, but tonight everyone seemed content where they were.

It must've been about three o'clock in the morning, the room was still plunged in darkness so it couldn't be anywhere near early enough to have a natural light stream through. Hermione sat up with a start as she heard the screams of terror she had sadly gotten used to. Still, though, she didn't waste a moment before shooting up and running down the hallway to the source of the screams that had seemed to subside.

Hermione burst into the bathroom to find Harry shaking vigorously but making no noise, Ron was knelt down beside him. An empty glass phial was rolling around the tiles of the floor.

Ron looked up and offered a small smile to Hermione. She smiled nervously back and sat down on the other side of Harry. She didn't want to speak but at the same time she needed answers. Thankfully, Ron read her mind. "He's alright, there's a cupboard in our old bedroom full of Calming Draught and Dreamless Sleep potions. Just needed one of them." Ron said calmly.

He needs to stop having these dreams, Hermione thought but she held her tongue. Harry had stopped shaking and sat up, leaning against the bathtub. "Thanks, Ron." He muttered.

"No problem, mate. Do you want the Dreamless Sleep one now?" He asked, pulling out another phial from his jacket pocket, Hermione had forgotten he fell asleep in his normal clothes.

Harry shook his head nonchalantly as if he hadn't just had a screaming fit. Hermione looked between the boys, incredulously, how could Ron let him say no? But once again, she didn't say anything in case she caused an argument on barely the first day of their hunt.

"You two go back, I'm fine." Harry said, more composedly than Hermione believed he really felt.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked concernedly.

"Promise. Just gonna splash my face." He smiled weakly. Hermione's expression didn't soften, however, but she didn't say anything to protest.

Ron stood up and offered his hand out to Hermione who took it, but was still watching Harry with a worried expression until they left and closed the door behind them.

They walked back down the corridor in silence, Hermione had many questions but had to wait until they were far away enough to not be overheard by Harry.

"You alright?" Ron asked through a yawn.

Hermione sighed. "I just wish he'd stop having those dreams."

"I know." Ron said softly as they made their way back into the drawing room. "Reckon he's still not willing to master Occlumency, though." He added. Hermione sat on the sofa and Ron knelt before her back on his own sleeping bag.

Hermione nodded but looked down, she wasn't happy that Harry was so adamant that he kept this bridge between himself and Voldemort. It was obviously still causing him horrendous pain.

"Hey," Ron said from his position on the floor. He rested each forearm outside Hermione's knees so she would focus on him. "I know you don't like it, but if he wants to do it then there's nothing much we can do, yeah? He's nearly as stubborn as you." Ron smiled up at her.

Hermione rolled her eyes but she smiled back at him. He was right, after all, Harry was set on keeping that connection and there was no point trying to argue with him about it. "Thank you for the sofa, by the way." Hermione said softly.

"It's alright." Ron replied, looking down sheepishly. Hermione held his face in her small hands and gently lifted it up so he was looking back at her. She loved his eyes, they were the most wonderful shade of blue she had ever seen, even in the dim light that the candles provided. She wished she could just kiss him, right there and then, but she knew she couldn't, so she reluctantly released his face and rested her hands back in her lap.

"Do you want your pyjamas?" She asked.

"Oh." It took Ron a few moments to process coherent thought. "Yes, please." He answered, sitting back down to the floor.

Hermione handed them to him and closed her eyes while he got changed, she blushed at the thought of a nearly naked Ron behind her hands.

Once he had gotten changed they both slipped back into their respective sleeping bags. Hermione looked up at the dark ceiling. "I hope Harry's alright."

"So do I." Ron agreed. He yawned again and realised he was still exhausted. But when he heard Hermione sniff, his eyes shot upon and he reached for her hand in the darkness. "He'll be alright." He said consolingly.

Hermione felt so silly, Harry was the actual person experiencing this and here she was, as upset as if it was her herself. She squeezed Ron's hand which she had no intention of letting go. "I know, I just, it's just scary, I suppose."

"I know." Ron replied again.

Hermione felt her eyes sting with how tired they were, she gave Ron's hand another squeeze. "Good night."

"Good night." He echoed, and they fell asleep with their fingers intertwined.

Ron woke up to the delightfully familiar smell of breakfast. He loved that even in his attic room he could still smell his mother's cooking. He opened his eyes as a smile crept on his face, only to disappear seconds after. He sat right up and noted that both of his friends were still asleep and that all three of them were still here...in sodding Grimmauld Place. He rolled his eyes but quickly realised that he could still smell breakfast, that wasn't a dream. His brows furrowed in confusion, if both Harry and Hermione were here, who on earth was making breakfast?

Curious, and slightly scared, Ron got up, took his wand from under his cushion and headed down the hallway. Cautiously, ensuring not to make any noises as he did so, he crept down the stairs that led to the kitchen. His mouth fell to the ground as he realised someone was indeed making breakfast. Kreacher. Ron glared at the sight for a few moments to ensure he wasn't seeing things, but surely enough, Kreacher was hurrying over hot stoves and setting up the table. The house elf only paused briefly as he noticed Ron come down.

"Master Weasley, good morning!" He said cheerfully.

Ron's eyebrows arose in bewilderment but he didn't question it, instead he simply replied, "Uh..good morning, Kreacher," as he entered the kitchen.

"Master Weasley, please be seated." The elf asked with a gleaming smile that Ron had no idea he was even capable of.

Cautious of just how very kindly Kreacher was asking, Ron hesitantly moved towards the table and watched his every move as he whizzed around the large kitchen.

Ron snapped his head around as he heard footsteps drawing nearer. Hermione. He never really got a proper chance to look at her in the mornings, in school they got ready in complete opposite ends of the building, and at the Burrow she was always up and dressed before he was even stirring. There was that one morning, however, when he could've got the chance to see her just as she woke up, on the night of Dumbledore's funeral when they shared a bed. But because of the circumstance, she had gotten up far earlier than anyone in the whole dormitory so she wouldn't be caught by Harry and Neville.

She looked beautiful as she rubbed her still tired-looking eyes, her hair was back to its wild state after being smoothed down for the whole of yesterday, and Ron could've sworn it looked even messier right now. He smiled at her almost mechanically, as if it was second nature to greet her warmly.

"Are you okay, Ron? I thought I could smell- Oh, Kreacher!" Hermione quickened her pace as she made her way down the last few steps and hurried into the kitchen. She gaped at the sight and looked to Ron for answers.

Ron just shrugged his shoulders in return, still as confused as he was when he first entered the kitchen.

"Would Miss Granger like to take a seat next to Master Weasley? Her porridge is nearly ready." Kreacher's voice was happy and bright, something Hermione had never experienced from the elf before.

"Why, th-thank you, Kreacher! You really don't have to-"

"Nonsense! It is Kreacher's job to attend to the needs of Master Potter and his friends." Kreacher cut off Hermione's protests. She smiled back at him but scowled at Ron as she sat down beside him.

"What?" Ron asked. "I didn't ask him to do it." He said quietly, looking over his shoulder.

"Oh," Hermione said, she had expected that Ron had ordered the poor elf to slave away for them. She felt guilty to say that she had forgotten that Kreacher was even here at Grimmauld Place. She really was shattered last night and there was no sign of him then.

It wasn't too long before Kreacher had rushed back, placing down a full English breakfast for Ron and a bowl of porridge with select berries and honey for Hermione.

"Thank you, Kreacher! You really don't have to do this, you know." Hermione beamed gratefully at him. Ah yes, Ron thought. Hermione still hadn't seemed to give up on her S.P.E.W project, however, especially in this instance, Ron surprisingly didn't feel that it was such a pointless affair, after all.

"Master Potter said you were kind." Kreacher mused with a seemingly everlasting smile and rushed off to tend to the washing up from making their breakfast.

"I slept all night last night, despite how bloody creepy this place is. Did you sleep okay?" Ron asked as he shoved a piece of bacon in his mouth.

"Y-yes." Hermione replied, still distracted by whether or not they should be taking advantage of Kreacher like this. "Did you?" She returned the question, obviously missing what Ron had said.

"I just said how I slept." Ron chuckled, putting down his fork.

"What? Oh, sorry, sorry." Hermione scrambled. She moved in closer to Ron, "I just don't understand why he's acting so pleasantly towards us." She whispered, nodding her head towards Kreacher.

"Nor do I," Ron whispered back. "But I reckon just for this meal we should at least enjoy it?" He added before returning to his eggs.

Hermione rolled her eyes at how committed he was to his food, but it was something she equally loved about him. Remembering the events of last night, or rather the earlier hours of that morning, Hermione smiled at Ron and rested her head against his shoulder, linking her arm with his.

"Thank you for earlier. You were so in control with Harry."

Ron blushed at the compliment, he had all but forgotten about what had happened, to be honest. "S'alright, done it a million times. Don't expect me to be that controlled in other scenarios."

"What? Like ones that involve teeny tiny spiders?" Hermione teased.

"Oi. Stop bullying me about my spider thing, alright? Really hurts." He added, feigning a dramatic sniff and pretending to wipe tears away.

Hermione chuckled and squeezed his arm, continuing to eat her breakfast whilst being close to him.

Harry had missed breakfast, neither Ron or Hermione wanted to wake him if he was having a considerably calm and mostly undisturbed sleep. When he did wake up however, Hermione had bombarded him with questions about Kreacher and why he had such a sudden change in heart.

After Harry had explained that when he had gotten himself a glass of water the night before, him and Kreacher had had a conversation where the house elf seemed to be experiencing an abrupt change of character, but that wasn't the only thing that Harry had managed to scope out last night when Ron and Hermione were fast asleep.

It turned out that the real locket was stolen, stolen by none other than Mundungus Fletcher. Ron decided that the exact moment he saw him again he would bloody kill him, not only had the idiot essentially killed Mad-Eye, but he had stolen something - quite valuable - from Harry himself.

The rest of the morning was spent mostly by Hermione already devising a plan on how they would get the locket. The first plan of action was to find Dung, wherever that bloody sad excuse of a human was.

The rest of their first day was spent helping Kreacher to clean and tidy Grimmauld Place. Hermione would absolutely not have Kreacher cleaning this whole building when the three of them really hadn't had that much to do themselves.

Dinner that evening was a pleasant affair, no discussion of what could possibly be happening behind the four walls they were at least safe in. Hermione felt a wave of guilt when they ate on the large dining table, however, she had only ever eaten dinner around this table with about ten other members around it. Not that she wasn't content with the company she did have, she loved Harry, and Ron was probably her favourite person on the whole planet. But when she thought of everyone at the Burrow..and then her parents.. her mind seemed to spiral into an oblivion of worry.

Ron glanced over to Hermione who looked suddenly distraught as they made their way through their dinner. Without even thinking, Ron placed a hand on her thigh in an attempt to sooth her. This was the only moment that Ron didn't envy her intelligence; the way her mind worked seemed to bring her down as well as up. He knew she could take any situation that seemed completely harmless to anyone else, and think of all of the different possibilities that meant it was dangerous or could go wrong. He felt so helpless at these moments, he just wanted to help her but knew that only she was in charge of her own mind, no matter how hard he tried.

Hermione nearly gasped at Ron's touch, she hadn't realised that her face was portraying her anxieties. She looked up at him and smiled apologetically, immediately feeling her worry melt away as she gazed into his blue eyes.

Harry had found Sirius' old bedroom in the day and decided that he'd like to stay there instead of the drawing room. Hermione felt a bit guilty, Ron and her were obviously closer in the night than Harry was to either of them. She just hoped that he didn't feel at all isolated, admonishing herself for letting Ron entrance her so easily to forget the pact they were supposed to be holding up.

"Hey." Ron said as he crashed to the floor again of the drawing room, another day where he was truly shattered. He couldn't believe how much actual, physical cleaning Hermione had him do, even though they were bloody wizards.

"You should have the sofa tonight." Hermione said firmly from her place on the brown settee.

Ron just waved his hand dismissively. "S'fine. I'm knackered anyway, I'll be asleep now." He muffled into his cushion.

Hermione sighed guiltily. "Are you sure?" She asked in a small voice.

Ron flipped onto his back to face her. "I promise." He said more firmly. She smiled at him and lay down herself, exhaustion succumbing her.

"'Night." Ron said, his hand fumbling around on the sofa for Hermione's, which he grasped. "You okay after dinner?"

"I'm fine, thank you. I promise." She echoed, latching onto his hand. "Good night." And they both let sleep possess them.