Chapter 44

Falling Quaffle

Fred and Mary Cattermole made it out before anyone at the Ministry had given them a second glance. Unfortunately, when they made it to the Cattermole's home outside of Kent, they found that Reg wasn't at the house waiting after all. Instead, they were greeted by an avalanche of children who had clearly not expected to see their mother ever again.

Mary became inconsolable as Fred left her in the kitchen, getting the three children, Arabella, Denise and Henry, photographed for their passports. When Reg still hadn't returned twenty minutes later he decided it wasn't wise to stay and sent the kids to pack their bags as he helped Mary, still sobbing, pack her own so they could leave before the Ministry had a chance to take her in again. He could feel that there would be more sinister charges against her than just her blood status should she return to the basement courtroom.

Within an hour of their arrival, they had apparated to Dover. It was transfer day and from the looks of it, George and Lee had been lucky and had gotten the seven Muggleborns he had rescued to Justin already. They now mixed with the original group, waving at the sight of Fred.

"Bloody hell Weasley," Justin swore, watching him storm down the gangplank, Denise in his arms, the little girl's grip crushing his arm, "Are we taking every last muggleborn in England out today?"

"It's a long story-" Fred said as he set Denise down, the girl running over to her brother and sister.

"Must be. Just missed George, he came in with this lot," he motioned towards the seven, poking and prodding at their new uniforms, flipping through their passports with wondering awe. Justin lowered his voice and turned his eyes back to Fred, "Said you got them out of the Ministry-how the hell did you do that?"

"Sheer dumb luck," he answered with a triumphant smile, "I wasn't the only one that was there today though," he said, his voice hovering low like a prayer, "Harry was there."

Justin stepped back and nearly did a double take. "Harry? Harry Potter just walked right into the Ministry? Has he-"

"Oi give him some credit, he was in disguise," Fred laughed.

"You Gryffindors are all alike. Think you change your appearance and you become invisible," Justin scoffed, shaking his head, "Why was he there?"

"Looking for something," Fred shrugged, "I got the seven to George and went back to get more-by then Harry, Ron and Hermione were in the Atrium-"

Justin stuttered for a moment, his face growing pale. "Wait, the three of them-"

"They got out," Fred promised, steading the man, "At least I think they did. Yaxley went with them-"

"Yax-"

"But," Fred interrupted, "I trust those three. I'm sure there was a scuffle, but he's outnumber. And they've got Hermione Granger with them. As far as I see it's Yaxley we should be worried about."

Justin looked up at Fred, almost with a knowing look and smiled, "We'll be sure to send him a get well card from France," he said simply, clapping Fred on the back. He looked to the Cattermoles, standing on the starboard side of the ferry, "We haven't taken any families over. I don't know what Penny will do with them."

"The mum, Mary," Fred started, nodding to the woman,"She was in for the Muggleborn Commission today. I can't find her husband. I'm afraid-"

Justin looked up and over with his eyebrows raised. Fred hadn't said those words before, at least not to Justin, " You, afraid?"

"I'm afraid the Ministries holding her husband now. Ron had taken Polyjuice to get in to the Ministry and was pretending to be her husband. But he wasn't at the house which makes me think-"

"He's at work, and they're going to want to know what he knows about the other Cattermole," Justin finished, "And if he and his wife were in on it I'd suppose."

"Exactly," Fred said, turning again to look at the little family. Arabella was holding Denise for her mother while Henry held his mother's hand. Mary's had stopped crying and was now looking without seeing, her eyes fixed on the horizon. Her children all having a different mask of confusion. Earlier today they had been worried Mum wouldn't come home from the Ministry. Now they were living in a world were they wouldn't be coming home, and where would dad go when he did?

"Penny's a Puff, she'll find a spot for them," Justin said, breaking the silence, "Besides, she's said she gets lonely while Bea is out, maybe she'll have they stay as house guests for a 'll help Mary make sense of it all. Who knows, can add it to the cover story somehow. We'll move them once we think of where to take family evacuations."

Fred raised an eyebrow, "Are we planning those now?"

"Fat chance Fred Weasley would leave anyone behind who needed help," Justin said with a smirk, "Makes sense we get the vulnerable ones out first and then we double back for the rest, right?"

"Right," Fred nodded, clapping his hand on Justin's shoulder. "I'm going to tuck in the broom closet and get back to the shop. Hermione suggested it best I make a strong presence at the shop today. You know, pretend I wasn't at the Ministry when they were."

"She's a smart one, Granger," Justin said, although the way Justin was looking at Fred, Fred again wondered if Justin had put together some puzzle pieces. Fred was going through his words again, trying to see if he had let something slip, but he couldn't think of what. He dismissed the thought and waved, stepping into the cabin of the Ferry and looking for the janitorial cupboard toward the aft of the ship.

((*))

They landed in the Forest of Dean with two thumps and a scream.

Hermione was on her knees, looking over the body that laid next to her. Ron was shaking, breathing hard. It looked as though he had cut his forehead on a rock when they had landed. Hermione was already quick at work removing his shirt to see how bad it was. It shouldn't be to bad; she had concentrated more, focused on her three d's. It really shouldn't be bad at all. "Harry-the Dittany-please-"

And that's when she looked up and realized Harry wasn't standing.

He was also on the ground. Face into the ground. Not moving.

She reached for her bag and called up a wad of gauze, wrapping it around the pence size hole in Ron's arm, securing it before she rushed to Harry. Rolling him over and seeing a trickle of blood coming across his shoulder and up his neck. No, she swore, quickly taking off Runcorns jacket and seeing the blood that was seeping through his undershirt. No, no no no no-

When they had landed on the step to Number 12, Hermione hadn't realized Yaxley had gone with them. She had let go of Harry long enough to hex Yaxley, breaking his hold of her before she fled a second time. Then, with her hand firmly gripping Ron, she had reached out to grab Harry but-

You're hand slipped, remember? It Slipped, you didn't have a strong enough grip-she had tried so hard to keep Ron from splinching, she hadn't done enough to keep Harry from meeting the same fate.

She took her wand and ran it down the back of the shirt, the cloth splitting as she went. She pushed it away to reveal the splinch. It wasn't a chunk of skin so much as strips of it. It looked like lightning had whipped across his shoulder, stretching down to his back about a half inch at its deepest and maybe two inches wide in some parts, bleeding and raw. But nothing was missing. You haven't created another Mundungus.

"The Dittany Hermione, get the Dittany," she talked to herself, taking her bag with shaking fingers and summoning the little bottle which flew to her hand.

"Hermione-" Ron was groaning, regaining consciousness. "What's happening? Where-" he was still shaking but had lifted his hands to view, one reaching for the cut on his arm, the other the blood on his forehead. He could feel and now see the blood from the cuts, the gauze she had wrapped around his arm. The vision, coupled with the unknown, terrified him.

"Hermione-" he called again, his voice more panicked. "Hermione-"

"I'll be right there Ron," she called, as her hand shook over Harry's back, her fidgeting fingers struggling with dropper that released the liquid. New, light Pink skin was forming over the worst of the cut. She tried to get the dropper back in but missed the opening, nearly dropping the bottle in its entirety as Ron called out for her again, his hand rustling through the leaves trying to reach her ankle.

"Hermione-" he pled, "I'm dying-I think I'm dying-"

She closed her eyes, her face pinching as she desperately tried to think of a solution.

It was a clear, indisputable fact: Harry was in worst shape and needed immediate care. Once the Dittany had applied she'd need to clean his back of blood, wrap and bandage the torso-preferably before Harry woke up.

Ron had been splinched but not so bad as previously. No arteries were at risk. It was a gash along his forearm and a cut on his forehead. She'd be able to apply dittany and clean it in five minutes. It wouldn't need a sling as it had in the past.

But she could hardly tell Ron, "Stop it, it's not as bad as last time, your fine." Ron knew that he was injured, and as such wasn't thinking logically. He also didn't know where they were, or have any idea on what was going on. His last clear thought was fleeing the Ministry and here he was, on his back, injured in a bloody forest, calling for a friend who was busy trying to heal Harry.

He's not going to appreciate this-

"Hermione-" he groaned again.

She turned around and flicked her wand. "Stupefy," she muttered as a red jet shot out and shook his frame. She looked over to see he was now out for the count and hoped he'd believe her excuse "You passed out from loss of blood."

Loss of blood, Hermione thought, allowing herself to be wrapped in the silence as the dropper made its trip up and down Harry's back. More pink ribbons stretched over the injury, the new skin stitching into the old.. He'd probably like this addition to his scar collection. More Macho, Ginny would say and Harry would grin. Definitely more Macho.

She had pulled out the bandages from her purse when Harry's eyelids began to flutter. "What happened?" he asked, his voice groggy, "Where's my shirt?"

"You got splinched when we left Grimmauld Place," Hermione said, helping him sit up "Had to take it off to see how bad it was." She did a quick scan of his face. Aside from it being paler than normal, nothing seemed to be wrong. Still two eyes, single nose, nothing out of sorts. She hadn't maimed Harry Potter.

"We left Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked, still getting a sense of his surroundings. "Why? Are we in a forest?"

"Yaxley got a hold of us," she said, trying to keep her voice tight, not wanting to break down now. "Fred's powder didn't hold him as long as we had hoped, he held on and-he got in the barriers of the Fidelius Charm I panicked and-"

Harry put his hand on hers and gave it a squeeze, "You got us out of there Hermione, more I can say than Ron and I did" he said simply. Looking over her shoulder to see Ron, still passed out on the leaves he looked back at her, "Ron get splinched too?"

"Yeah, not as bad as you did," Hermione said, turning around quickly to see if anything had changed with Ron. "He passed out while I was fixing your back-"

She hadn't been able to finish. She would have said, don't strain it but Harry automatically twist his neck, trying to see the damage, shirking in pain as he did.

"Careful," Hermione add a little too late, "You still have very fresh skin. Here lean forward and pass me the bandage when you're done-we can wrap it up."

Obediently Harry leaned forward and helped pass the bandage roll to Hermione as she directed it over his shoulder and across his back, covering his new lightning scar.

"How does it look?" he asked, "not going to affect my beach body will it?"

"Don't worry, when the war is over and we go to get Mum and Dad you'll look fine on the beach," Hermione chuckled, relieved he was joking like this. "I was just thinking before you woke up, Ginny's going to think it's very macho-this scar looks more like lightning than your forehead."

Harry smiled weakly his eyes already lost in another world. Hermione finished her work with the bandages before he spoke again, "Did you get to see Fred? Other than at the end?" he asked.

She nodded, leaning against a tree next to him. "Right at the beginning. He figured out it was me pretty quick when I was making my way down from her office, I didn't have a prayer."

"How, you were under the potion?" Harry asked, raising his eyebrows, "Did something fail? Can Polyjuice fail?"

"Not really, not unless you try an animal transformation. No, He-" she stopped for a moment as she recalled the memory. She knew the moment she had given him that look, she knew he would recognize her. Why had she done that? What was the good of it?

You wanted to see if he would, she thought to herself, you wanted to see if he would still remember your face.

"He just knows my expressions well," Hermione explained, running her hand through her shorn curls. "He could see them on Mafalda's face and put two and two together."

"How was he?" Harry asked, looking at her earnestly, "Did he say anything about the family?"

Did he say anything about Ginny?

"No," she said turning to him with a smile, "He thought we were off our rockers going into the Ministry the way we did-"

"Says the man who threw Peruvian Instant Powder and a couple of decoy detonators at Yaxley-"

"Right?" Hermione said, turning to face him with a laugh. She looked away, the smile still on her face. "He gives me a self-righteous speech about self-preservation and then waltzes through the door and nearly gives Umbridge a concussion," she shook her head with laughter, "He's so-He's so stubborn-thinks he can walk right into something and make it through unscathed."

She could feel his eyes on her as she tried to hold onto the memory of Umbridge's fear as she saw who had thrown the door open.

"So are you," Harry said simply, "You're just as Stubborn as Fred. I think that's one of the reasons you liked each other so much. You're the only ones that seem to match the other's fire."

She was about to say something when she heard a groan and froze. She had forgot about Ron, whose foot was now twitching in consciousness.

"Shit," she swore picking up the bag, Harry laughing as she rushed to Ron's side.

"Oy, throw me those bandages," she said, catching the roll mid air before it could roll into the leaves. He hadn't bled through the gauze she had left him with. Digging through her purse for fresh dressings, she quickly changed them out and was wrapping a bandage around the gash in his arm when Ron finally came to.

"What happened?" he asked, a little more groggily than Harry. Hermione assumed the stunning spell might have something to do with that.

"We had a stow away," Hermione answered calmly, "Yaxley followed us to Grimmauld Place and when I apparated us out you and Harry got splinched."

Ron's eyes drew wide like galleons. He had always been fascinated with this-even paranoid about it during their tests. "Splinched?" he said, gazing down and almost looking with disappointment at all his still attached limbs. When he saw the small bandage on his arm he gave a sigh and nodded, then looking to Harry. "How bad was yours?"

"Hermione figures I'll live," he shrugged, instantly regretting the action as it turned more into a wince, "Shouldn't have done that," he said looking at Hermione apologetically.

"We're going to want to lay low for a few days," Hermione told them, "We'll stay put at least a day for you two to grow thicker skin at the very least."

"But where are we?" Ron asked, looking at the surroundings, "Are we in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Hardly," Hermione said, taking her wand and walking five feet away, brandishing it as she began the protection charms she had memorized the previous year. She turned around to look at the two of them. "We're in the Forest of Dean. Came here with Mum and Dad growing up-I know this place, we'll be safe here."

"Should we go get some leaves to make a bed?" Harry asked, trying to sound cheerful despite the truth she saw in his eyes.

"You can Harry, but I'm sleeping in my bunk," she said with a smile, "Open the purse and summon Mr Weasley's tent."

Harry gave her a quizzical look and then turned to Ron who looked equally befuddled, "Accio Mr Weasley's Tent!" Harry bellowed, ducking at the last minute before he got beat by the upside of the tent poles.

"I know your dad had us put it up the old fashioned way last time, but if it's all the same with you," Hermione said stretching her arm wand as Harry tossed the tent between them, "I'd rather we use magic this time."

((*))

The flight of Harry, Ron and Hermione from the Ministry of Magic was, in Fred's Opinion, the stuff of legends. He and George realized that this must have been what it was like when they had made their exodus from Hogwarts.

When Fred had made it back to the store, news had yet to spread that Harry was rumored to have been in the Ministry of Magic. But as the lunch crowd weaved through the Alley it started first like a whisper and then rolled like a song: Harry Potter had been in the Ministry. What for, no one was sure. Some said he had gone in to cause a distraction to get Muggleborns out. Others thought he was going to try and do a coup against the Minister Himself. Some who thought Harry might have something to do with Dumbledore's death thought he was there to finish off the Minister, destroy the Dumbledore evidence and instate himself as the Minister.

No matter how far fetched the rumor, it carried on spread: Harry had been at the Ministry.

And, fortunately enough, no one seemed to have thought Fred Weasley had been there too.

George had gone pale and nearly locked him in the apartment when he first told him what exactly happened that morning. Bookmarked between "You said you were just going to drop a bug on Percy-it was only supposed to me a minor act of espionage, not treason" and "Do you want to spend the rest of the sodding war in Azkaban? Fat lot of good that will do for the Muggleborn Kids" his brother had paced the back workroom before agreeing Hermione was right and his presence was best visible in front of people. He'd have Verity swearing fifty ways to Sunday Fred had been in the shop all day, and if he had to, George wouldn't hesitate confounding a couple customers to think they had seen the same.

As the shop closed that night, George turned the sign and locked the door. Lee went about setting their wards for the shop and the three tucked in the attic apartment dishing out their dinner while listening to what Fred had observed.

"So the three of them were there?" Lee asked again, "Little brash putting all the eggs in one basket like that for a Ministry Mission. What if one of them needed a rescue?"

"They can't afford to think like that Lee ol'Boy," Fred answered, leaning against the counter top. "If they think they can mess up, they will mess up and that's how they'll end up dead. They need to have that cocky stride if they want to survive."

"Says the idiot who actually threw Peruvian Powder at a bleeding Ministry Official," George sighed, cracking open the Fire Whiskey and drawing three glasses.

Fred shot him a dirty look while Lee laughed, lifting his glass, "To the Cocky Fools, may they keep their stride and lead us to the war's end."

The brother's clinked their glasses, George laughing as he said "Cheers" while the drink burned down Fred's throat. He wasn't sure if it was the drink or his thoughts that seemed to have his chest on fire. A slight roar that could be so much more.

"When I was trying to get the kids out-the ones you met," he started, turning to George and Lee, "They didn't want to listen to me. Thought it was a bloody trap. It was only when I said I was friends of Harry they listened and headed to the cafe."

George nodded, "They asked if it was true, if we were Harry's friends. The littlest one couldn't believe it."

"But as soon as you told them you were, they listened to you, didn't they?" Fred asked leaning forward, his elbows dug into the table, "It got me thinking-maybe we've been looking at this radio thing all wrong, having a station to share news of what's going on. If they think it's two idiots with a receiver they're not going to give us the time of day. But if they think we're friends of Harry Potter-"

"Which we are, you don't need to make it sound like this is a con," George said, his brows slightly scowled.

"They associate our broadcast with Harry and they'll listen. They'll make a point to listen. They'll get others to listen too."

"It's not a bad idea," said Lee, "It's like we're searching for Potter-call it Potter Search? Accio Potter! "

"More like a Potter-Watch," George corrected, "We're watching for him, waiting for him to storm through the Ministry and tell us what hair-brain scheme we should do to end this bloody war."

Lee smiled and took a drink from his glass, "I like that," he nodded a few more times, letting the idea spill into his brain, "Let's go with that. Potterwatch."

Fred reached for the Firewhiskey, filling up the glasses again, lifting his up, "Then gentlemen to Potterwatch," he smiled, the glasses crashing more sloppily against each other as he ran through fire again.

The rest of the evening was quiet. Angelina snuck in, deactivating the wards as she did, just like George had shown her. Fred noticed how his brother seemed to have started watching Angelina as of late, it was familiar-its how he had looked at Hermione. Fred used to tease him occasionally about the two of them becoming something more; and he wondered if now, in the heat of a war where either of them could die by the end of the week, Fred wondered if George would do something about it. If they would stretch the gap between friends and lovers. He wondered if Angelina realized George was giving her that look.

He could feel the shadows of loneliness creep in again; he took a drink hoping that would drowned them out. But it was too late. He was back in the atrium, his hand on her shoulder as he shoved her away, pushing her for the second time in as many months, towards supposed safety. Her eyes still on him. Her perfect brown eyes. He could tell that she wanted to say something, but there was too many words and not enough time.

He wondered if there ever would be enough time. Or if his time would run out. And Hermione would be left having the conversation with his stone as he slept under the snow.

No Freddie, he told himself, trying to pull his attention back to his friends, laughing around him, you're going to survive this. For her. You're going to prove time and Hermione Granger wrong in one solid move: you're going to live.

((*))

It had been one of the longest stretches of Hermione's life.

They had been camping for close to two months. She thought it was going better than it had their first time around, but she could hardly tell that to Harry and Ron who were still adjusting to the hardships of the road.

Harry's splinching was worse than Ron's had been last time, and Hermione was anxious at the thought of apparating across the country as they healed. So she slowly had them head west to Wales, knowing quite well there was nothing waiting for them, dangerous or otherwise, in the picturesque hills of the Welsh Countryside.

They would walk most of the day, staying on the outskirts of towns and off the main roads. In the evening, they would stop, put up the wards and get lost in their afternoon past times. Ron was a completely different person this time around, and often volunteered to go fish in streams-as apparently Charlie and Fred had taught him how to fish as a small child. That was a small detail the Ron of the Past seemed to have kept to himself, and Hermione struggled trying not to resent the present Ron for the Past's sin.

When they stopped in the evening and set up the tent, Ron and Harry, sometimes by himself and go fishing. If he wasn't getting fish, if it was Harry's turn, Hermione could hear him whistling outside the tent as he went to work getting her firewood for the stove or helping Harry levitate the water pots. Hermione would do a scan of nearby for berries or mushrooms. She had packed enough rice they usually had that as a side and sometimes, and occasionally, if they had past a farmhouse with eggs or had gone by a Tesco she'd get supplies to make a special treat.

Between her preparations and Ron's pleasantness, it was a day-and-night comparison to what she had known before. At least, she thought, raising her hand to the locket around her neck-it was day-and-night comparison when you weren't wearing the horcrux.

She had forgotten how much she hated it. How much she loathed those eight hours a day it was hers. There were some day she'd take it for a double turn, wearing it for sixteen hours to skip Harry or Ron's turn. She knew what they were facing and what they were up again. She knew how it was supposed to end. It was a weak form of a mental patronus but it worked for the most part.

Except on the occasion where she had dreamed of Fred. She had dreamt of him that night after they broke out of the Ministry. And pretty regularly after. She realized the vividest dreams were ones when she fell asleep with the Horcrux on. He was so real she felt he was there.. The two of them by the mill pond at the Burrow. The full moon looking down on them, illuminating his face in a milky glow. Every night it was the same. They were arguing about the diary. Her about his meddling, him about her lack of.

And every night, after their argument, he'd say he didn't love her. That he never had. That she was stupid and foolish to even think that. He was just using her brain for ideas. Just wasting her time on easy kisses. That this was a challenge Lee and George had made up and she had fallen so easily it was nearly laughable. And like the true nightmare she knew it was, his words would ring in her ears till she'd wake up to a tear stained pillow. Ron had noticed one of those mornings, had gotten up from his cot and made her a cup a tea while she was outside the tent, having a fit of hysteric crying under the shadow of the Muffliato charm.

And it happened again, just now. She had started hanging curtains and charming them before in the desperate hope she wouldn't wake the boys. She woke up this time when Fred had said "Who could ever fall in love with you? You don't have the time for it and even if you did, you'd just let them die anyway." She had rose from her bed and strode out the tent door without looking back. She was so angry, her body tense and seething. She knew they were doubts. That's all the horcrux was doing, summoning her worst thoughts and trying to make her believe them.

And they were working. Sometimes she struggled remembering those good moments with Fred, when they were happy, when she felt safe—and she blamed that bloody locket for it.

"It's cold Hermione," a groggy, deep voice said behind her. She turned around to see Ron, his hair twisted in two cowlicks, his jumper pushed up to his elbows as he draped a blanket across her shoulders, "you should come in. I'll make you a cuppa."

"I'm fine," She said, balling the blanket in her fists and drying her eyes with her sleeves, "Just a nightmare, I'm fine."

He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. They both knew she wasn't fine, just as well as they both knew she wouldn't say anything contrary to that statement.

Instead he just took a seat next to her looking at the forest around them.

"I have nightmares too, when I'm wearing that," he said, motioning to the necklace. "It makes the night mares from my ministry scars seem like good dreams," he laughed darkly, turning away, looking at a different patch of forest.

"Maybe we should just have Harry sleep with it on," Hermione started, turning her head towards him, "He's had nightmares since fourth year, he probably has a way to cope with them by now."

Ron grimaced and looked back at the tent, "We're all a bunch of misfits aren't we?"

"Is this news to you?" Hermione laughed, raising an eyebrow.

"No it's just-"he stopped, and she could see his pink ears in the moonlight. Hermione stopped and placed her hand on his, "We are misfits," she said, "the biggest bunch of misfits there ever was."

She saw him looking at her hands and she lifted hers quickly, tucking it under her blanket. She was trying to think of something she could say. Anything to break the silence between them. She was worried it grew as endearing to Ron as it grew damning to her.

"You figure they're alright?" Ron asked, "The people we left behind? I didn't see a lot of muggleborns our age in the courtrooms, maybe they aren't messing with the kids."

"I think the Order probably came up with a plan to get the kids out," Hermione lied, pulling the blankets tighter. "We have friends abroad, someone could come up with a way to get them to France and they could wait out the war at Beauxbatons."

"I'd like that. I hope that's where Fred took the Cattermoles," Ron said. Hermione could feel his body leaning against hers, the extra body heat radiating in the cold. "Do you think they caught Fred?" he asked, this time his voice tighter with fear of her answer.

Hermione felt her own body tighten with his question. She cleared her voice, trying to make it calm and sure for both their sakes, "Fred's smart, he probably made it back to the store and confounded enough people so he has a solid alibi."

"You think?"

"He ought to have. For George's sake at least," she said, standing up. She took her hand and pulled him up, "Come on, it's too cold and bleak out here for this conversation. Let's go inside."

She ignored the little smile on his face as she helped him up and they walked inside. Harry was sitting at the table, three tea cups already out, the steam rising from them. She noticed Ron's smile drop but the site warmed her more than the tea ever would.

Yes, she hated the horcrux. She loathed it. It was in these moments, when she had both of her boys with her that she felt they could still do what was being asked of them. Although, she did have a growing concern she couldn't share with them-

They didn't have the sword of Gryffindor and if Ron was staying with them-he was well fed and happier than she'd have guessed, there was no way he'd be leaving them-she was starting to get anxious knowing they wouldn't be getting the sword. At least not that way.

Maybe an idea would come to her, she supposed, over another early morning tea.

((*))

Towards the end of October they had made camp in the Black Mountains of Wales. The air was crisp. Ron had just brought in a few small trouts from a stream and Harry had brought in the water now boiling over the stove cooking the rice. She figured there was ten minutes till dinner would be ready and then she realized she could hear voices outside the tent. "Hermione," Harry whispered, "Did we put the wards up?" he asked, Ron grabbing his wand as they all scooted towards the mouth of the tent. Hermione nodded, "We should be alright. They might be able to smell the food but that's it-"

Harry nodded walking outside while Ron followed, the golden charm of the horcrux shining in the lamp as he walked past it. He was a step out the door before he turned back and looked and Hermione, eyes wide, "Hermione, come out here, it's Dean!"

Hermione stood at the mouth of the tent, looking at the scene. It was familiar, but not in the way it had been before. A muggle man who had been running with Ted Tonks sat next to the fire, and so did the Goblins, but there were two younger faces at their side, not Ted's. In his place sat Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan.

"But Seamus is a pureblood," Hermione whispered, looking at Ron and Harry, "Why is he here?" she asked. Harry shot her a look that told her to stay quiet and Ron raised a finger to his lips, silencing her as they spoke.

"We haven't seen many kids on the run," said the man. Hermione wanted to say his name was Cresswell but she wasn't sure. He had been a friend of Mr Weasley's. He flipped the fish he had been cooking on the fire, "Had hoped you guys had found a hiding place."

"Most the Muggleborn kids have made it out alright," said Dean, rocking forward, his elbows resting on his knees, the shadow of the fire dancing on his face. "The Weasley twins have been smuggling Muggleborns to France since August, as far as I reckon there aren't many they've missed. "

Ron cast a quick look to Harry and Hermione, one of excitement, near pride.

"How've they done that?" a Goblin asked, " The Death Eater's have regulations on Floo Powder and Apparition. It's not worth your wand to even try and make a portkey-"

"They outsmarted them," Dean said, digging in his pocket and pulling out a burgundy leather book. " They're regulating all Magical Means of transportation, but not Muggle. Give them a passport and get them on a ferry for France- after that you're only a rendezvous point away from spending the war at Beauxbatons."

He threw his passport towards the Goblin who seemed to look at it curiously. The man stretched out his neck to get a look at it to before looking back at the boys, "Good for Arthur's lads. Their dad would be proud if he knew." He turned the fish again and looked back at them. "If you have that passport though, why are you back here in Britain?"

"Because I don't belong at Beauxbatons, I belong at Hogwarts," said Dean simply. He shoved Seamus as he spoke again, "I wrote to him telling him where I was and that I wanted to go back-"

"I says your a mad man and would be better off staying in France," Seamus replied, playfully shoving his friend's shoulder. "But I know Dean, he came back and I ran away from school after our first Hogsmeade Weekend, me and one of the Hufflepuff girls. Now we're working together with a few other Muggleborns going up and down the country trying to find kids that were left behind and getting them to the safe house."

"At what point do you call off the search?" the man asked, "Don't get me wrong it's admirable lads, but what your doing isn't safe-you get caught and you'll be on the Azkaban Transport."

"Weren't you just on that transport and you got away?" Seamus asked suspiciously.

"I'm a trained Ministry Official, if I can't get away I shouldn't have a wand," he said indignantly. "If I were you two I'd get back to France and just wait out the war. That starter for Pride of Portree-Andre Egwu they locked him up for smuggling muggleborns-he couldn't buy his way out he'll probably rot in Azkaban."

"We're Gryffindors," Seamus argued, "We can't sit back as the Death Eaters take hold of the country."

"They have their hold," the Goblin said, "The Human Man is right, you ought to go back from where you came from and wait for better 're young, you may live to see the end of it yet."

"But we want to be part of the resistance!" growled Dean, "Seamus, tell them about Neville and Ginny trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor-"

"They tried to steal the fake?" the silent Goblin laughed, "Let them know they don't need to waste their time over that-"

"What do you mean a fake?" asked Seamus.

"I was still at the bank until a few weeks ago. In the evening a security team came with an artifact for the vaults. I personally inspected the Sword of Gryffindor Severus Snape sent from Hogwarts and I can tell you right now, they wasted their time on a fake. That's no more Gryffindor's sword than I am a House Elf."

"Good think Ginny won't know that," said Seamus weakly, "She had Detention with the Carrows for a fortnight."

"Its nice you want to be a part of a resistance but you should just go back," said the man again. "Just wait-"

"The Weasley Twins aren't waiting," Seamus said, "They've come up with these passports and I bet you there's more they're coming up with."

"While that's true-"

"Did you know the Passports were Hermione's idea?" Dean asked, interrupting and nudging Seamus' shoulder.

Hermione felt her blood run cold as her body froze. She could feel Harry and Ron's eyes on her as the scene unfolded. Her limbs seemed heavy, as though they had been replaced with lead and her sense of hearing had grown incredibly sharp, as though she wanted to do her best effort in listening to her undoing.

Shut up Dean-

"What? Granger came up with the idea? I thought it was the Twins?" Seamus said, he turned to the man with the fish who looked at them confused, "Oh you know Hermione Granger, she's always with Harry Potter. Smartest witch of her age, yada yada, can be a bit of a nag but her hearts in the right place?" the man stared on, nothing Seamus had said clicking in recognition, "If she was the brains behind the passports you know they'll work."

Dean looked at annoyance with the man the goblin as Seamus spoke again, "If Granger came up with the passports why are the Weasley Twins dealing them out?"

A dangerous look crossed Dean's face and Hermione knew her world was teetering, that it was about to go over the cliff. He smirked, "According to Justin, Hermione and Fred were the power couple that came up with them-"

Her world fell off the edge. Her body turned to stone. She had heard a groan from Harry, but the most dangerous sound, silence, rolling off of Ron.

"Power Couple?" said Seamus flabbergasted, "Granger and Fred? I thought she liked Ron?"

"Didn't we all?" laughed Dean, "Apparently they came up with it when Granger figured they'd need to get the students out and he's been the one organizing transports ever since the Ministry Fell. She bleeding gave him her family home as a safe house. It's almost like they knew to the day when shit was going to hit the fan."

Shit was hitting the fan. That's all Hermione knew. It was definitely hitting the fan.

Her heart was thundering in her chest as the words settled in her ears. She turned around and looked for Ron. He wasn't there. She looked for Harry and found he was gone too.

"Ron," she called, marching into the tent, "Ron-"

"What the hell was he talking about Hermione?" Ron asked, his back turned to her. Harry stood to her right, a little infront as though he was the bridge between her and Ron. She watched as Ron turned around to face her.

His eyes were cold and hard, like they had been so many times in both of her lives. Like they had been last time. But there was more, there was betrayal. She had done that.

"What-"

"Don't play dumb," he spat, "What Dean was saying-" he took a step closer to her, closer to Harry. Hermione noticed him shift ever so carefully between the two of them.

She caught Harry's eyes and she knew what he would be saying if he could. I told you so.

Hermione straightened her back and clenched her jaw, "We were together," she said simply. "Fred and I. We were together. We broke up. We're not together anymore."

Ron's face didn't change.

"How long?"

"Does it matter?"

"The Hell it does!" he thundered, taking a step closer. Harry stepped between them, his hand on Ron's shoulder. "Hey mate-don't-"

"No," he said to Harry, and then returned his gaze to her. "No it does matter. Because for the last six months I've been bending over backward trying to prove myself-trying to make amends for Lavender and you've been snogging my brother behind my back!"

"It was none of your business," she said, her temper hot, taking a step closer. If they went any closer it would look like Harry was caught in a nasty tengo gone wrong. "It's still none of your business who I see or-"

"HOW LONG!"

"Since Christmas," Harry said, giving Ron a push back. He put his other hand on his shoulder, boxing him to his spot, "Ron come on, leave it alone alright-"

Ron was deflated, and she could tell he was counting the months in his head. This had gone longer than six months. Longer than when Hermione had told him on that tower she needed time to trust him again. To get to know him again before she could entertain the thought of the two of them together.

Her long road, webbed with lies, was finally coming undone.

And rather than take it all on Hermione, she saw Ron's eyes go darker as he looked now at Harry. "You knew?" he asked, his voice cracking. "You knew and you didn't say a thing?"

Harry's eyebrows came together, "It wasn't my news to share Ron," he started. "Did I tell her she should tell you- yes but I wasn't going to betray-"

"Oh you'll protect her but not me, eh?" he snapped.

"She's my mate, of course-"

"And what am I?"

"An ass at the moment," Harry blurted out. He again put his hand on Ron's shoulder but he swatted it away. Harry took a step back, closer now to Hermione, "Hell Ron, they've broken up, you got that? They broke up, they've moved on-"

Ron laughed, "Right, didn't you see the way Fred looked at her at the Ministry? He hasn't moved on. He was undressing her with his eyes."

Hermione swore. But Ron didn't hear the word. Instead he was doubled over from where Harry had punched him in the mouth.

"Apologize," Harry said, standing square in front of her. "Apologize or get out."

"Your kicking me out now?" Ron asked, "You two think you can figure out Dumbledore's riddles without me?"

"Well you aren't really helping while your here are you?" Harry asked, "If you're going to treat Hermione like this we don't need you."

"Harry no," Hermione said, her hand to his shoulder. "Ron-I should have told you. I knew that. But there was never a good way, or time-"

"How about when we were sitting in the woods after your bleeding nightmares-"

She could feel tears trickling to her eyes. She looked and saw he was still wearing the horcrux, if she could get it off, and get him a cup of tea, all of this would stop.

"Or how about at Grimmauld Place. Or at the wedding reception-or-"

He froze, looking at her. "That's why you cut your bleeding hair. Because you had just got dumped," he sneered, "Your pathetic. And then you glued yourself to Vicky's hip all night-"

"Stop it-" Harry started, "Ron-"

"I don't have to listen to the famous Harry Potter," he spat, snapping his head towards Harry. "Alright, I'm not one of your soldiers who try and liberate fake swords-"

"Your right, you're my friend," Harry said, desperately trying to get some hold of the situation.

"I'm not even that," Ron sneered. "If I was, you would have told me about the two of them; you'd have put a stop to it. Instead, you kept me in the dark over that just like you've kept us in the dark about these damn horcruxes," he said, pulling the locket to the air, flaunting it before them. "We're no closer to destroying these than I am to getting with Hermione, am I?" he asked, moving his eyes from the locket to Hermione. "Here. I don't want it. I don't want any of it."

He through the locket at Hermione's feet, and started walking towards the door of the tent.

"No," Hermione started, "Ron No-"

"I loved you Hermione," Ron blurted out, the words sounding with a guttural cry. "Damn it don't you get that? And then you go and-" his voice broke again and she could see a shean of tears over his blue eyes in the moonlight.

"Come back, please. You can ignore me but Harry needs us-he needs both of us. He can't do this without us-"

The words seemed to settle and for the slightest moment, Hermione thought that it had worked. That she had calmed him down like she hadn't been able to the time before. That this time, this time he'd get it and they'd walk back into the tent. She'd pull the shortbread out of her tin and they'd make amends, have a laugh, and sleep off whatever remaining feelings lingered.

But then she heard Ron's dark, unforgiving laugh. "There's never been an us Hermione,"

He said coolly, "And thanks to you, there never will."

And with a gentle pop, Ron Weasley disappeared into the night, leaving Hermione standing, numbly, in his wake.

Harry came rushing out, hearing Ron's departure. He looked at the empty clearing and then at Hermione.

"It's my fault," she said, her voice even, as her eyes began to water. "It's all my fault Harry, it's-"

She couldn't breath. She was just shaking at first, and then her body curled forward as the racking sobs took over. Her knees gave way and her arms wrapped across her chest as though she was trying to keep her insides from spilling out over the floor.

She could feel Harry's arms around her. His hand pushing her head to his shoulder. He was saying something now. That it wasn't her fault. That Ron was a prick. That he'd be back in the morning-and even he wasn't, they'd be ok. But Hermione couldn't hear those words. Instead she was remembering the last time a Weasley son had spoken that cruelly to her under a moon. Instead she was remembering the last time her words had failed to mend what she had undone.

"My fault-" the words wheezed out of her, like the last words before she'd give up the ghost, "My fault-"

And Hermione dreaded, what sins would come to the surface next.

AN:

Guys. I can't do this to our girl anymore. I just can't.

This was a fun chapter to write, just because there were so many different personalities from the side characters I had wanted to bring in and also tying together elements of the story that are going to play a big role in coming chapters. I think my excitement for what's going to come is what's pushing me to publish this before I sleep on Ron's departure and risk a re-write...

Next Chapter we'll see the Birth of Potterwatch and Hermione share a dangerous confession with Harry. That's all I'm going to say about that.

Thank you, thank you THANK YOU to you beautiful souls who give this story so much love and encouragement. Youre words are golden and help encourage this little writer along. I'm hoping to have an update by the start of next month (June) but maybe slightly delayed with work conferences about to start.

Be kind to one another, all my Love,

Kait