I'm not sure you can call that love.
After everything we went through the following year, my past feelings for Harry just seemed fickle in comparison to these new ones.
I don't think I had ever felt so strongly about another human being. And when I say 'feel strongly' I don't just mean attraction. Because real love is so much more than that.
I don't really think I can explain it. It's almost like...every emotion you normally feel is intensified a hundredfold. You feel happier, sadder, more fearful, more protective, stronger and weaker. All these feelings that you feel normally just grow when you're with that person. They grow and they grow and they continue growing.
Sometimes...I wonder if it's dangerous.
There were days when everything seemed to be going just fine. They'd already found one horcrux, after all. And Hermione was filled with hope that the journey would continue on smoothly. They all were.
But other days...most days... a thick cloud of gloom would settle upon the reclusive tent and fill each member with an unyielding mood of hopelessness.
They were cold, they were hungry, and they were running out of ideas.
The only bright spot of their days, it seemed, was the small moment of relief they each felt upon removing the locket from around their necks after a long day. It was like breathing in a lungful of air after being submerged in ice cold water.
Indeed, wearing the horcrux was a kind of emotional torture Hermione had never experienced. It seemed to feed upon all her fears and insecurities. It made her feel so incredibly alone, even with Harry and Ron sitting right beside her. And it filled her with an inexplicable sense of guilt. She would start to blame herself for everything that was going wrong, like she wasn't smart enough or practical enough or capable enough. Like everything was her fault.
It affected each of them differently, the horcrux.
When Hermione wore the locket, she would tend to sit quietly in a corner, alone, wallowing in her own thoughts.
When Harry wore the locket, he would become extremely irritable. The smallest things would set him off, and he'd rush out of the tent in a temper only to return when he'd finally cooled down.
But there was something different about Ron. Not only did the horcrux feed upon his fears and insecurities, it seemed to thrive upon them. Like there was a part of him that was buried deep inside that was suddenly unleashed when the locket was around his neck. He would turn insufferable, cold, and cruel. He would criticize everything, complain about everything.
When Ron wore the locket, he was unrecognizable.
"What are you doing?"
Hermione looked up to see Ron sit down across from her at the table.
"Reading," she said, simply.
"Anyone die while I was outside?" Ron said, gesturing toward the wireless that was currently emitting a soft hum of white noise.
Hermione looked up at him sharply. "Don't talk like that," she said seriously.
He crossed his arms and looked away. "Well, who knows? They could all be dead. While we're out here camping," he stated, spitting the last word out as if it were poison.
"Stop it," Hermione said abruptly, clenching her teeth.
"Why should I?" he retorted, turning his face to glare at her. "It's true! I don't know what's going on out there, I don't know if they're safe. Unfortunately my parents aren't vacationing in Australia at the moment—"
Hermione slammed her book shut, standing up so fast, her chair almost fell from underneath her."Go to hell," she said, giving him a cold, hard look.
She was just about to walk away, but Ron quickly got up to block her path.
"Move," she ordered.
"Hermione, wait—"
"I said, move."
"Look, I'm sorry, okay!" he said, holding up his hands. "I didn't mean it, Hermione, I swear I didn't mean it. It just...slipped out."
"Yeah, that seems to be happening a lot lately, doesn't it?" she stated, frostily.
"IT'S THIS GODDAMN LOCKET!" Ron suddenly shouted, causing Hermione to jump.
He removed it from his neck violently, throwing it to the ground.
"I am so sick and tired of wearing that thing," he said, gesturing to it as he spoke. "It drives me insane, Hermione."
"You act as if you're the only one who has to wear it!" she said, angrily. "It affects all of us, Ron."
"Well, hey, I sure wish we knew how to destroy the f—ing thing! Oh wait, that's right, Dumbledore forgot to mention that part!" Ron yelled.
"Look at you!" Hermione said in disgust. "You're not even wearing it and you're talking this way. What's gotten into you, Ron?"
"What's gotten into me? I dunno, maybe it's the fact that we're out here doing absolutely nothing. Or that we have to carry You-know-who's soul around our necks like it's some sort of keepsake. Or, hey, maybe it's the fact that our leader, Harry Potter, doesn't know what the bloody hell he's even doing!"
"Quiet, Ron!" Hermione said quickly, looking towards the opening of the tent.
"Afraid of hurting his feelings, are you?" he sneered.
"You're being completely unfair," she responded, heatedly. "Harry told us everything from the start. I thought you knew what you were getting yourself into!"
"Can you honestly tell me that you didn't think Harry would have some sort of idea where to start? Did you really think we would be wandering around aimlessly for weeks?"
"Well...no, but—"
"But nothing! Harry let us down. He let you down, but you just can't admit it," Ron stated, pointing his finger at her in an accusatory manner.
"You're talking rubbish," Hermione said, pushing his arm aside. "Look, I admit that I'm a little disappointed in the way things are going, but I would never blame Harry for that. He's trying his best, Ron. We both are. But unfortunately all you seem to be doing is complaining."
Before Ron could respond, however, Harry walked into the tent causing them to abruptly cut off their conversation.
He looked at the both of them for a moment, before walking over to his bed and lying down.
Hermione suddenly felt extremely guilty. He probably suspected that she and Ron had been talking about him all along. And he wouldn't be completely wrong in that assumption either.
Great. That's all Harry needs right now. To think his best friends have turned against him.
Hermione sighed to herself. "I suppose it's my turn to keep watch," she announced quietly, knowing that she might as well be talking to herself.
So with a heavy heart, she walked over to the locket on the ground, picked it up, and wordlessly placed it around her neck.
The autumn months stretched out as Harry, Ron, and Hermione continued to move along the countryside. Their days were filled with nothing but the same mind-numbing tasks that were quickly becoming routine. Hermione stopped trying to keep track of time. What was the point when every day was just like the other?
To her great displeasure, Ron continued having the same conversations with her when Harry was out of the room. It seemed like his goal these days was to discredit Harry in any way he could.
Hermione tried again and again to dispute the matter with him, but she was simply growing tired of it. There were times when she would give up all together and listen to his ranting in a stony silence.
The locket made her this way. It drained her of her energy. It made her hate everything around her. It made her hate Ron. It made her hate the way he talked to her, with his cruel and heartless words. The way he tried to provoke her. The way he always had to put Harry down, make Harry seem like the bad guy, blame Harry for everything that was going wrong. But more than anything, it made her hate the fact that somewhere deep inside of her...she was starting to resent Harry as well.
It was absurd, it was outrageous, it was absolutely ridiculous. But it was there.
After she would take the locket off, however, that feeling would dissipate. And in its place a most painful guilt would erupt inside of her.
I just wish we could get some sort of clue. Something that will help us. Are we ever going to find answers? Are we ever going to end this? It honestly doesn't feel that way. Sometimes I wonder if Dumbledore really was mad... After all, only a mad man would set a task like this to three teenagers.
Hermione stared at the last sentence she had written with a grim sort of smile. Dumbledore believed they could do it. The three of them...together. Why? She had no idea. But perhaps one day she would find out.
As fate would have it, they did find some answers that day.
After overhearing the conversation between Ted Tonks, Dean Thomas, and a pair of goblins who had all incidentally wandered close to their wards, the trio were able to surmise that Ginny had led a break-in inside the Headmaster's office to steal the sword of Gryffindor.
Hermione could not for the life of her understand why Ginny would feel inclined to do such a thing. She instantly felt the fear overtake her as she began to contemplate all that Snape could have done to punish them.
However, an idea suddenly struck her.
"Ginny—the sword—" Harry uttered.
"I know!" Hermione said, lunging for her tiny beaded bag and letting her arm sink in all the way to the bottom until it made contact with a large picture frame.
"Er—Phineas? Phineas Nigellus?" she said uncertainly. "Professor Black? Please could we talk to you? Please?"
"'Please' always helps," said a cold, snide voice, and Phineas Nigellus slid into his portrait.
Hermione immediately shouted an 'obscuro' which served in blindfolding the deceased headmaster. "I'm very sorry, Professor Black, but it's a necessary precaution," she said as he starting protesting wildly.
"We've got a couple of questions to ask you—about the sword of Gryffindor," Harry said at once.
Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had been this happy. After hearing that Ginny and the others were safe, they'd also discovered a critical piece of information as well.
"Harry!" Hermione cried.
"I know!" Harry shouted, unable to contain his excitement.
"The sword can destroy Horcruxes! Goblin-made blades imbibe only that which strengthen them—Harry, that sword's impregnated with basilisk venom!"
Hermione felt so utterly light. She could dance or shout or laugh. The world seemed full of every possibility at the moment. Absolutely nothing could bring her down today. Even the mushrooms currently stewing in the pot seemed to give off a less than terrible scent compared to usual.
"So, would he have hidden the sword well away from Hogsmeade, then?" Harry said. "What d'you reckon, Ron? Ron?"
They both looked at the spot Ron had stood not moments before.
"Oh, remembered me, have you?" he asked, lying in the shadow of a lower bunk, looking stony.
"What?" Harry said, confused.
Ron snorted. "You two carry on. Don't let me spoil your fun."
Harry looked to her for help, but Hermione was just as nonplussed as he was. All along Ron had been complaining about not having enough information. And now that they'd discovered something so vital, he was suddenly upset about it. It just didn't make any sense.
"Well you've obviously got a problem," said Harry. "Spit it out, will you?"
Ron swung his long legs off the bed and sat up. He looked mean, unlike himself. With an uncomfortable jolt, Hermione realized he was wearing the locket around his neck. She was suddenly afraid he would say or do something that would not be forgiven.
"All right, I'll spit it out. Don't expect me to skip up and down the tent because there's some other damn thing we've got to find. Just add it to the list of stuff you don't know."
Hermione stared between the two of them fearfully. Ron had never confronted Harry about his discontent before. He'd made it quite clear through his actions, yes, but he'd never actually verbalized anything to Harry's face. He typically reserved all of his complaints to her. And while she had always hated it, she would rather it be her than Harry, now.
"I don't know?" repeated Harry. "I don't know?"
"It's not like I'm having the time of my life here," said Ron. "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."
Hermione listened to the words she'd been hearing for weeks now. The same words she'd learned to ignore. And yet, something about the situation, about the way Ron was looking at Harry and Harry was looking at Ron, made it seem like it was the first time she was hearing them. And they were piercing through her insides like a knife.
"Ron," Hermione, said, but in such a quiet voice she could barely be heard over the storm that was currently raging outside.
"I thought you knew what you'd signed up for," said Harry.
"We thought you knew what you were doing!" shouted Ron, standing up. "We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!"
"Well, sorry to let you down," said Harry, his voice calm, but hollow. "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—"
"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," Hermione suddenly said. "Please take it off. You wouldn't be talking like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day."
"Yeah he would," said Harry, turning on her. "D'you think I haven't noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? D'you think I didn't guess you were thinking this stuff?"
Hermione looked at Harry, begging him with her eyes to understand. "Harry, we weren't—"
"Don't lie!" Ron hurled at her. "You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you'd thought he had a bit more to go on than—"
"I didn't say it like that—Harry, I didn't!" she cried, her eyes starting to well up with tears.
She hadn't meant it, she hadn't meant any of it! Not in the way Ron was letting on. She was disappointed in the situation, she wasn't disappointed in Harry!
Then why do you resent him?
I don't! I swear I don't! It's the stupid horcrux...it makes me feel all these terrible things...
Do you really believe that?
Yes!
So what about Ron? Does he not mean anything he's saying, either?
Hermione looked at her best friend, as if seeing him for the first time. Sure they always fought a lot, but there were more good moments than bad. So many more. She just couldn't understand why he was doing this. Why he was turning into this malicious person she couldn't even recognize. They were supposed to stick together, the three of them. They couldn't break apart now, Ron couldn't leave now.
"Then GO!" roared Harry. "Go back to them, pretend you've got over your spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and—"
Hermione watched in horror as Ron made a sudden movement to grab his wand, and Harry reacted by doing the same. But before either of them could do anything, she shouted a "Protego!" and an invisible shield expanded between her and Harry on the one side and Ron on the other.
Tears were quickly spilling from her eyes now as she observed her two best friends staring at each other with such a corrosive hatred that it made her heart ache.
"Please, please just stop," she choked out through her tears. She rushed over to Ron, attempting to remove the locket from around his neck, but he immediately pushed her away, causing her to stumble back in shock.
"Leave the horcrux," Harry said.
Ron snarled, wrenching the chain from over his head and casting it into a nearby chair. Hermione's heart nearly stopped as he turned to look at her, with a fire blazing in his once familiar blue eyes.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you staying, or what?"
Hermione looked at him in shock. Did he really expect her to just abandon Harry? Simply because she wasn't pleased with the way things were going?
"Yes—yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help—"
"I get it. You choose him."
She stared at him with a mix of anger and despair. A part of her wanted to throttle him, but another part was begging for him to stay, to realize what a horrible decision he was making. To remind him that he'd made a promise long ago...centuries ago, it seemed. He made a promise to her that they would stay by Harry's side. He promised her. He promised her.
But it didn't matter, none of it mattered. Because even as she pleaded for Ron not to go, he ignored her. He stormed out of the tent once and for all and Disapparated away.
The room was now filled with a dead sort of silence, the kind that made her afraid to breathe lest she be heard. And neither her nor Harry said a word the rest of that night, each consumed in miserable thoughts that could not be escaped even in their sleep.
...
"He'll be okay, Hermione," she heard Ron say quietly.
She looked up into his face, her vision still slightly blurred from the tears. "Promise me something, Ron."
"Sure...anything..."
Hermione swallowed hard, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "Promise me that you and I will never leave Harry's side. Promise me," she said in a shaky voice.
She looked Ron straight in the eyes. There was something in them that she couldn't quite read. Something she'd never seen before.
"I promise."
And in an instant, that something was gone.
For the next few weeks, neither Harry nor Hermione dared mention Ron's name. Indeed, they were spending many evenings in near silence. It was almost as if a part of both of them had broken the day Ron left and was now taking painfully long to mend itself again.
It didn't help that they now had to wear the horcrux for even longer periods of time, with Ron gone. And this proved to have a great toll on them.
As Hermione sat one evening rereading The Tales of Beedle the Bard, her mind seemed to wander from the words on the page and into unbidden thoughts of her own.
She found herself staring intently at Harry for a long time as he lay on his bunk observing the Marauder's map. And it was at that moment when a terrifying realization struck her.
As she stared at him, she felt nothing.
In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she held any sort of emotion for Harry at all, any sort of affection. Even before Ron's departure. It was like...she'd gone numb.
Hermione continued to gaze at him for a long while, willing her heart to react in some manner. Willing herself to just...feel.
But still she felt nothing. And it frustrated her.
What had happened to make her this way? Did she no longer have feelings? Any feelings at all? Was she completely emotionless?
No...I do feel.
I feel sad, I feel guilty, I feel hopeless, I feel empty. I do feel.
I just don't feel any good.
Hermione swallowed painfully, a lump forming in the back of her throat. How could she have let this happen?
She looked down at the locket around her neck, and let a single tear escape her eye. Could this vile, evil, disgusting object really affect her this way? She had loved Harry. She had loved him with all her heart. Could such an object just strip that love away from her? Just strip it so easily? Like it was nothing?
She couldn't even remember the last time she felt any sort of love at all. Any sort of happiness, enthusiasm, optimism, or hope.
The horcrux had drained her, Voldemort had drained her.
And she'd done nothing to stop him.
As Hermione held the innocent-looking locket in her hand, tracing the tiny emeralds with her thumb, she was overcome by the most vehement desire to destroy it. To obliterate it.
She yearned to feel happiness again, she wanted to smile and laugh again. She wanted to look at Harry and feel butterflies in her stomach and heat in her face and infinite love in her heart. She missed him. She missed him so much it hurt her. She missed him even though he'd been right next to her for so long.
Hermione wasn't sure how long she sat there, staring at Harry. Staring at him without really seeing him. But now...now she stared until she could see him. And in that moment she seemed to realize all over again that she really did love him. No amount of evil in the world could change that.
And so, that night, that moment, she refused to ever let anything have power over her own heart again.
Hermione was searching diligently through her Runes book for possibly the twelfth time, but she just couldn't seem to find the ruddy symbol.
"It has to be in here somewhere..." she said, hoping that if she said it enough times, it would suddenly appear in front of her.
Somewhere across the room she heard Harry clear his throat, but she barely even registered the noise as she continued scouring the textbook in front of her.
"Hermione, I've been thinking, and—"
"Harry, could you help me with something?" she asked, snapping her head up, finally to see that he'd already made his way over to her.
"Look at that symbol," she said, pointing to the top of the page.
"I never took Ancient Runes, Hermione."
"I know that, but it isn't a rune and it isn't in the syllabary, either. Think, have you ever seen it before?"
Harry leaned his head next to hers to squint at the page, and he was so close Hermione could feel his body heat emanating off him. She closed her eyes for a moment, the smallest hint of a smile on her face.
"No...No, wait a moment." Harry looked closer. "Isn't it the same symbol Luna's dad was wearing round his neck?"
Hermione's eyes snapped opened. "Well, that's what I thought too!" she said, pleased.
They discussed the possible meaning of the strange symbol for a moment when Harry cleared his throat yet again.
"Hermione?" he asked.
"Hmm?"
"I—I want to go to Godric's Hollow."
She looked up at him and was surprised to see somewhat of a nervous look on his face. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I've been wondering that too. I really think we'll have to. I can't think of anywhere else it could be, either."
"Er—what's there?" asked Harry, a confused look on his face that probably mirrored her own at the moment.
"Well, the sword, Harry! Dumbledore must have known you'd want to go back there, and I mean, Godric's Hollow is Godric Gryffindor's birthplace—"
"Really? Gryffindor came from Godric's Hollow?"
Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes. "Harry, did you ever even open A History of Magic?"
She looked at him, waiting for some sort of defensive remark. But none came. Instead he simply smiled.
And yet, to Hermione, there was nothing simple about it at all. Because it was the first time she'd seen him smile in weeks, months even. And this simple smile warmed her heart to such a degree that she wondered vaguely if it had been frozen all this time.
His smile. She loved his smile.
"So, when should we go then? As soon as possible, yeah? How about tomorrow?" Harry asked eagerly.
"Woah, woah, woah! Slow down there, Harry. We're not going anywhere until we have absolutely everything planned out. We don't want another repeat of the Ministry," Hermione stated adamantly.
Harry seemed to visibly deflate.
"We'll start with our disguises. We'll use the Invisibility Cloak, obviously. And we'll definitely need some polyjuice. I suppose we'll have to go into town and try and take a few hairs..."
And so they continued planning. Or rather, Hermione continued planning while Harry sat there nodding his head in agreement, seeming too pleased to disagree with anything she was saying.
It didn't take long for Hermione to understand why Harry had been so confused when she'd mentioned the sword earlier. He didn't want to go to Godric's Hollow to look for it. He wanted to go to Godric's Hollow for the simple reason of going there. Because it was where he was born, where his parents were buried. Because it was his home.
Hermione only hoped with all her heart that nothing would go wrong.
"Let's take off the Cloak," said Harry.
She turned to him in fright, ready to give a thousand reasons why this was a bad idea.
"Oh, come on, we don't look like us and there's no one around."
Hermione still felt a bit uneasy, but she knew there was no way of changing Harry's mind about this. So, instead, she chose to keep to very careful watch of their surroundings.
"Harry, I think it's Christmas Eve!" said Hermione, hearing a carol start up inside the nearby church.
"Is it?"
As her eyes took in the little church, she spotted the edge of what looked like a graveyard behind it.
"I'm sure it is," she replied. "They...they'll be in there, won't they? Your mum and dad? I can see the graveyard."
She turned her head to look at Harry who was gazing fixedly at the same spot. His unfamiliar brown eyes were bright and there seemed to be a dozen different emotions playing on his face. But above all, he looked both excited and afraid.
Without so much as a thought, Hermione placed her hand in his, and led him forward, not ignoring the flutter in her heart that his touch had elicited.
Once inside the graveyard, they separated to search through the long rows of tombstones. It wasn't until Hermione found the Dumbledores and Peverells, that her eyes finally landed on a small white marble headstone.
"Harry, they're here...right here," she said softly, turning around to look at him.
He moved towards her slowly, hesitantly, as if he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to see or not. But finally, he came to stop right in front of the grave.
As Hermione stood there next to Harry, she was overcome by the deepest feeling of sorrow. For Harry, for the two people who had once lived, had once loved him with all their hearts and more. And not for the first time, she was struck by the cruelty of fate. For Harry's fate, in particular. Why was someone as kind and loving and good as Harry dealt with such misfortune? When would he finally be free of all the pain and all the sadness? When would he finally be able to live his life?
Hermione longed for the day. She longed for it as if it were her own.
Tears were now falling freely down Harry's face, but he seemed almost oblivious to them. Hermione took his hand in hers again, gripping it tightly and staring determinedly straight ahead. He wouldn't want her to see him crying, after all. So, she wouldn't look.
Instead, she knelt down and moved her wand in a circle through the air, making a beautiful wreath of Christmas roses blossom before the headstone.
And when she stood back up, Harry did something he had never done: He placed his arm around Hermione's shoulders, holding her closer than he had ever held her before. She instinctively leaned back into him, placing her own arm around his waist and listening to his deep, sharp gulps of air turn into steady breathing once more.
No words were exchanged in that moment, but somehow, the gratitude in Harry's eyes, face, and entire being, meant more than any 'thank you' he could have ever spoken.
Hermione waited.
Something wasn't right. She'd felt it the moment she stepped into the house. No...the moment they'd been spotted by Bathilda.
And now, like a fool, she'd let Harry go upstairs with her, alone.
They were taking too long...
What was taking so long?
Hermione paced the tight corridor fretfully, attempting to reassure herself that everything was fine. That she was just overreacting, like usual.
But then out of nowhere, the sound of shattering glass cut through the deadly silence of the old house.
"Harry?" she called up the staircase, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.
There was no response.
Hermione immediately rushed up the old, rickety steps as fast as her legs could carry her. There were three rooms on the upper landing, and she tried each of them unsuccessfully until she reached the last door on the right. When she opened it, it took everything Hermione had not to scream at the top of her lungs.
There in the corner of the room was an unconscious Harry pinned down to the ground by a giant snake. Hermione had to remind herself to breathe for a moment as she took in the scene. But without a second's deliberation, she aimed her wand at the snake and fired a jet of white light that instantly made the creature recoil. Its giant head slammed against a large wardrobe behind it, causing the furniture to topple dangerously close to Harry's body.
The snake now had its sights set on her. It struck suddenly, causing Hermione to dive aside with a shriek, her deflected curse hitting the curtained window, which shattered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry get up and grab his wand, but the snake's tail cut through her line of vision, missing her by mere centimetres.
The creature was now thrashing about wildly as both Harry and Hermione tried to escape the small room, but there seemed to be no hope.
"He's coming! Hermione, he's coming!" Harry's voice shouted among the chaos.
As she crouched down to avoid another blow, Harry rushed over and pulled her painfully across the bed and towards the window, pieces of glass puncturing every inch of her skin. Hermione screamed "Confringo!" as the snake lunged again, her spell flying around the room and exploding the wardrobe mirror.
Pulling Hermione with him, Harry leapt from bed to broken dressing table and then straight out of the smashed window into nothingness, managing to disapparate away just seconds before hitting the ground below.
Then everything was silent.
Hermione sucked in a large breath of air as if she had been underwater the entire time. She stood up, casting all the necessary protective charms, then turned to look for Harry.
She felt a chill instantly pass over her body when she spotted him.
"H-Harry?" she choked out, rushing over to his side.
Hey lay on the forest ground, shaking and shivering like mad.
"Harry! Harry, wake up!" she begged, shaking him roughly. "Wake up!"
Sweat was pouring from his forehead like water as he began writhing on the ground, shouting out things Hermione couldn't understand, making noises she had never heard him make, moaning in such agony she didn't think possible for him to feel.
Tears were quickly spilling down her cheeks as she looked at him, completely bewildered and utterly terrified.
"Harry! Harry!" she shouted again and again through her sobs, trying frantically to shake him awake.
Hermione's eyes grew wide as she suddenly noticed a pool of blood seeping through the arm of his jacket. She tore the article of clothing swiftly from his body, and carefully rolled the sleeve of his shirt up to observe the wound.
"Oh, God!" she whispered in terror, her hand flying to her mouth in shock.
The snake had bit him on the forearm, and the blood was slowly dripping down the length of his arm.
She clutched her hair desperately with her hands, shaking from her tears.
"Oh, God, what do I do? What do I do?" she cried out to the empty forest around her.
With shaking hands, Hermione summoned the bottle of dittany from her bag, and unstoppered it, praying with all her heart that it would work on snake bites. She was finding it difficult to pour the potion over the wound, however, as Harry continued to thrash about on the ground. So she grabbed his arm forcefully, placing a knee on his hand to keep him from moving.
As the potion made contact with the wound, it seemed to burn and sizzle as it had done with Ron. She closed her eyes in momentary relief, wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve.
However, the relief was short-lived as Harry let out another loud moan, twisting himself on the ground.
Hermione was at a loss. She had no idea what was happening and no idea how to stop it.
"Harry..." she choked out, placing her hands on his face, willing him to wake from this nightmare. "I don't know what's wrong, Harry...I don't know what's wrong, but...just...Just please wake up. Please."
Hermione suddenly spotted the chain around his neck. Sitting back up abruptly, she reached to take off the locket, but was met with a surprising resistance.
She tried again. But again, the locket refused to part with Harry, appearing to be stuck to his chest. Hermione tried several spells to remove it, but in the end only a Severing Charm had proven successful.
She pulled up Harry's shirt hesitantly to observe any damage, and grimaced when she saw the scarlet oval over his heart where the locket had burned him.
"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered, through a haze of tears. "I'm so sorry."
With the locket off, much of his shaking had subsided. However, as Harry lay in the lower bunk of the tent, he continued to let out long, low, and endless moans.
As the hours passed, Hermione had taken to wiping the sweat off his face with a wet cloth as it continued to drip down in uncanny amounts. His clothes were stuck to his body, and his usually messy hair lay completely flat against his head.
She longed for him to wake up from whatever had taken hold over him. She longed to see his green eyes staring back at her.
When was the last time she'd really looked into his eyes? She couldn't remember. How could she have been so stupid...to let that opportunity pass her by. The chance to look into Harry's beautiful green eyes.
Fresh tears fell down her cheeks even after she thought she'd cried them all, already. Hermione placed her hand gently on Harry's face, feeling the heat of his body sear through her palm.
"Wake up, Harry," she begged, softly. "Wake up, I need you."
Hermione exhaled slowly, removing her hand from his face
"No..." he moaned. "No..."
She looked at him sadly, her eyes downcast and feeling hopeless.
"No..." Harry said, louder. "No..."
"Harry, it's all right, you're all right!" she said, desperately.
"No...I dropped it...I dropped it..."
"Harry, it's okay, wake up, wake up!"
And just like that, he awoke.
"Harry," Hermione whispered, not quite believing her eyes. "Do you feel all—all right?"
"Yes," he replied, his voice scratchy.
He was clearly lying, but Hermione was so overcome by relief she only gave him a watery smile in return. She had the strongest urge to throw her arms around him and never let go, but his body looked too fragile at the moment to risk it.
As they both explained to each other what had happened, Hermione could not seem to tear her eyes away from Harry. It was like she was seeing him for the first time, or perhaps even the last time, and had to memorize every bit of his face before they parted.
Either way, she wondered madly how she could have ever let her feelings for Harry dissipate. When at this moment, she had never felt so strongly for him before.
"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, as Harry joined her outside the tent later that evening.
"As good as one can feel after being attacked by a snake," he replied.
Hermione gave him a sad sort of smile. "That was more than just a simple snake attack, you know. I was so scared, Harry," she added, quietly, not looking at him.
"I'm sorry," he offered.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up," she said. "Just promise me one thing."
"Hmm?" Harry asked, leaning back against the tree.
"The next time we go on some dangerous mission, we really will be more prepared."
"You know I can't promise that, Hermione," Harry said. "Especially with our track record, so far."
Hermione sighed. "Yeah, I was afraid of that."
They sat in silence for a moment, and then: "I really am sorry, though. For today...I'm the one who suggested going to Godric's Hollow in the first place," Harry said."And what did we gain from it? Nothing."
"That's not true, Harry." Hermione insisted. "Now we know that Nagini really is one of the horcruxes—"
"Yeah, and what good will that do us? She never leaves his side. Today was probably the only chance we had at destroying it," Harry said, glumly.
"Don't you dare go losing hope," Hermione said, seriously. "Just think about it. We've already identified two horcruxes, we have one of them, and we only need to find two more. We can do it, I know we can."
"Do you honestly believe that?" Harry said, unconvinced.
Hermione paused for a moment, contemplating his question. Then she stared into his eyes.
"Yes," she said, finally. "And I know you do, too."
He looked at her somewhat skeptically.
"Because that's just the type of person you are," she continued. "You don't give up. Even if the entire world is against you, you stand by what you believe. And you have no idea how much I admire you for that."
Harry didn't seem to know how to respond. He looked uncomfortable at being complimented in such a way, but Hermione merely smiled at him.
"It's true," she shrugged.
"Well, you'd do the same," he admitted.
"Me?" Hermione responded, giving a humourless laugh. "I'm nothing like you. I only believe things when they make sense to me."
"There's nothing wrong with that."
"There's everything wrong with that!" Hermione stated. "Just because something doesn't make sense to me, doesn't mean I shouldn't try and understand it."
"But you're usually right about everything, anyway," he said in a matter-of-fact way.
"Not the important stuff, not the stuff that really matters." Hermione then sighed heavily. "Harry, I never even apologized to you."
"For what?" he said, confused.
She stared at a spot behind him intently. "For last year. You were right about everything. You were right about Malfoy and Snape and the Death Eaters, but I was too thick to realize it. And instead of...of hearing what you had to say, of trying to understand, I just...chose not to believe you. And I'm so sorry for that."
As she said these last words, her eyes moved to meet his. He still seemed confused about something, however.
"Harry, this is part where you accept my apology..."
He nodded absently, playing with a stray thread of fabric from his sweater. "Hermione, you didn't have to apologize for that. How many times have I completely ignored what you've said to me? You always try to warn me about stuff...but I never listen," he said, still occupying himself with the thread.
"But this was different. This wasn't about schoolwork or study habits. You tried to warn us, Harry. You tried to warn us about something much more important—"
"SO DID YOU!" he shouted suddenly, springing up from the ground to tower over her.
Hermione stared up at him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. He turned around swiftly so that his back was facing her.
"So did you," he repeated, in a much quieter tone.
Hermione could have sworn she heard a slight tremble in his voice.
"Harry..."
She saw him wipe his eyes violently before turning back around.
"You tried to warn me, Hermione," he said in a broken voice. "You didn't believe Sirius was at the ministry, you didn't think he was in danger. You knew it was a trick. You tried to warn me, Hermione, you tried to warn me!"
"But I didn't listen," he continued, in a desperate tone. "I didn't listen to you. Even after you begged me to listen to you."
"AND NOW HE'S DEAD!" Harry shouted out to the empty forest. "He's dead because of me! Because of me, Hermione."
He slammed his fist against the nearby tree, before falling back down to ground on his knees, breathing in short and shallow breaths.
"I would give anything to go back to that day and—and just listen..."
"Harry..." she whispered.
But she didn't believe any words in the English language would have brought him comfort at that moment. So she did the only thing she could think of. She took his hand in hers and leaned her head against his shoulder.
There were words to be spoken, yes. Thoughts to be discussed. Pain to be resolved. Broken things to be mended.
But there was a time for that. And that time was a different time. It was a different place. It wasn't now. It wasn't this moment.
So they stayed in that position for what could have been years, each grasping the other's hand as if it were their own life support. Several times she saw Harry wipe his eyes discreetly with his sleeve, until finally he just let the tears fall unreservedly. Somehow they both knew that this moment would never again be brought up in regular conversation, and for that reason they both felt a certain freedom.
It wasn't until sometime later when Harry finally spoke again.
"Hermione?"
"Yeah?" she responded.
"I accept your apology."
She looked up at him and saw a soft smile playing on his lips.
And his eyes, his beautiful green, emerald eyes...she saw hope.
A/N: So, I orginally planned on having more stuff in this chapter that would have provided a nice break from all the depression, but this was getting so long already. Soo, that's what the next chapter is for, I suppose. Sorry if this was a gloomy read...but it's a gloomy time of their lives, after all! Warning: Hermione's life is a rollercoaster. I just want to prepare all of you for that now, and will continue to prepare you as the story goes on. (I hope I didn't just scare anyone) But enough of that for now. I hope you enjoyed the chapter, thanks to everyone for reading!