Chapter 2:

"There has to be something we haven't thought of," Harry said as he paced the length of the spacious tent. Hermione could remember another time before it all when she was awed by the simple magic it took to create. She remembered a time when such magic awed her all the time, but now it all felt soiled.

"We've gone through everything," she said gesturing towards the mess of books that sat in front of her. "I've scoured every text."

"Then we need more books," Harry demanded.

"By all means Harry, point me in the direction," she scoffed. Harry just glared.

"Perhaps we can try to reach out," Ron piped in from the corner he had hidden himself into when Harry started yelling.

"The last time we got people killed," Hermione bit.

"Sacrifices," Harry said and she flinched. "I didn't mean it like that," he snorted.

"What exactly did you mean," she said, barely able to hide the growl in her voice.

"I mean…we have to work harder," Harry hissed through his teeth. The bags beneath his eyes were as purple as scars. He hadn't been sleeping, none of them had been sleeping with the drone of the radio and the weight of the horcrux, another issue they had yet to solve.

"I'm doing the best I can Harry," she snorted, standing from the chair. She needed some air.

"Well it's not bloody enough," Harry barked as she stalked for the tent flaps.

"Then, by all means be my guest," she threw her hands towards the stack of books. "I'm not the one who is going off the words of a dead man."

"Hermione," Ron scolded.

"No, let her," Harry said. "She obviously has something to say."

Hermione scoffed. "If Dumbledore had this grand plan why didn't he tell you or hell, tell you had to rid us of that thing," she gestured towards the chain around his neck.

"Maybe because he was to busy being murdered by your boyfriend!" Harry yelled and she flinched again. "Maybe if you hadn't been so consumed in him that you would have seen what was going on right in front of you, but you were too busy…fucking him."

"Harry," Ron growled.

Harry took a sharp inhale as the blows landed on Hermione. His face fell as he saw the weight of them hit her like stones.

"Hermione…"

But it was too late, she was already out of the tent flaps.

Hate was a tricky thing for Hermione because she understood how quickly things evolved in the world, in nature, in humanity. Hermione had always prided herself in her ability to find beauty in even the most destructive forms of nature, but she did not find any beauty in Draco Malfoy. She could without a shadow of a doubt admit that she indeed hated him.

Hermione rubbed at the green stains in her brand new Gryffindor scarf, the fresh green permanent ink setting into the gold and red strands. She refused to cry over something so small, she refused to give him that satisfaction as she rubbed and rubbed at the delicate worn yarn. She had just gotten this scarf no more than a week ago, a gift sent to her by her muggle mother who had unironically found it in a local shop and realized the colors were the same as her house colors. Hermione had written a long thank you letter to her mother for thinking of her and had tied the scarf around her neck, her heart warming with every moment she wore it.

Hermione let out a shuddering inhale as she threw the sodden material into the sink, smacking the hard porcelain as she growled at the futile effort of cleaning permanent wizard ink out of the scarf. Not even a spell would rid her of the inky green stain.

This morning as she sat in Potions class beside Harry and Ron she had the scarf draped over the back of her chair. She hadn't even realized what had happened until she went to tie it around her neck once more and pulled back her hand covered in green ink. She turned wide eyed as she surveyed the three laughing Slytherins behind her. Crabbe, Goyle and none other than Draco Malfoy sat with a half empty jar of ink trickling down the front of their desks with smiles dripping in venom.

"Oops," was all Draco said with an innocent shrug of the shoulders.

She had shrieked at him as she surveyed the soiled mess and Professor Snape did nothing as the boys claimed it was an accident.

"It was no damn accident," she had countered, but the Professor had only snorted at her and warned her if she continued using language like that he would take five points from her house. She had far worse things to say to the lot of them, but chose to ignore it, holding back the angry tears. She would not let them see how their stunt had affected her.

Hermione gave up after the eighth time of rubbing at the stain. It was useless. The scarf was ruined and there was no salvaging it, just as there was no salvaging this day. Hermione chose to wrap the delicate fabric into a ball and shove it into the bottom of her bag; she couldn't bring herself to throw it away. It meant so much to her that her mother had found it in such an unlikely place.

Hermione had opted out of lunch in order to salvage it and as the hour was coming to end she decided against facing the lunch time crowd and instead ducked into the library. It was a reprieve from the chaos of the great hall and as Hermione let the calm of the empty library wash over her she could finally let herself take a breath.

Hermione gave the head librarian, a witch named Irma Pince, a quick nod as she strode into the stacks, hoping to disappear into their words as she normally did, but as she turned the corner the horror of the last hour seemed to be following her even now. Seated at her favorite reading corner was none other than the snake himself.

Draco sat along the windowsill overlooking the sprawl of Hogwarts courtyard and the forest just beyond. It was Hermione's favorite place to lounge after a long difficult day as she had been having currently. He sat with his long legs spread before him, text in hand as he read by the light of the window. She couldn't help the warmth of anger bubbling up in her chest as she surveyed his carefree slouch, as she watched the way his fingers scrapped along the pages of the book, as she watched the way his mouth twitched upward at whatever he was reading. She wondered what was so goddamn funny.

As if he could sense her Draco's eyes shot up from the page and his face pinched into a sneer as she surveyed her glaring at him.

"Something you need Granger," he growled as his chin lifted. "Did you just come to gawk at me?"

She snorted, turning on her heel. "In your dreams."

"Maybe my nightmares," he laughed cruelly. "Come to collect?"

"Your vile, you know that Malfoy," she growled.

"Your insults have really improved Granger. The wit is astounding," he sneered before turning back to his book. "You can go."

Hermione stood, caught in conflict on whether to push it further or not. She knew better than to coerce further conflict, but she was in fact beside herself with anger.

"You destroyed my scarf," she growled.

He looked up through his thick lashes, eyes flashing in the light of the window.

"It was an accident," he said without any lick of innocence.

"You and I both know that's a lie," she hissed, stepping forward. He didn't even flinch.

"Really Granger," he said, glaring. "Are you willing to prove it?"

"You know you did it," she gritted through her teeth.

"I would say it was an improvement," he said, shutting the book with a snap. "Not that you could improve it much."

Hermione's face went red with the anger bubbling inside of her. "It was a gift."

"Oh from Weaselbee I assume. The taste was resplendent of the Weasley wealth," Malfoy snorted as he hopped from the windowsill, snatching up his bag.

"From my mother," she hissed.

"Ah yes, muggle. I should have guessed," he chuckled as he stepped closer. "Well maybe you should take more care then." He smiled like a viper as he stepped even closer. She didn't back down. "Would you like me to pay for the damages? Perhaps a bronze nut for your troubles."

"I want an apology," she hissed, she felt vile sharing breathe with him.

"You're better off demanding the money," he laughed, staring down his nose at her. She hadn't realized how much taller he was compared to her, but she lifted her chin, refusing to be looked down upon.

"Apologize," she growled.

He didn't flinch, she didn't flinch.

They held their ground, their chests close enough to brush.

His gray eyes to her brown.

They only stepped apart when the bell tower rang and they both looked to the looming day outside. She stepped back first, her nerves shaking as she knew she had to be in herbology in five minutes.

"Better hurry along. Wouldn't want to leave a black mark on that spotless record of yours Granger," she looked up at him again and for the first time ever saw the expression of contemplation, one that was not dripping with venom. He looked solemn, lost in thought, and very un-Malfoy.

Hermione backed up, never turning her back as she rounded the stacks and ran for the exit.

Hermione sat along the cliff edge, watching the low clouds dusting the mountains in rain ahead. She had walked past the wards searching for a lick of air before settling into the rock ledge. The cool breeze nipped at her nose as the fresh scent of rain overtook the valley just below. She only had a few more minutes before she would have to start heading back towards the camp in order to avoid getting completely soaked.

She took a breath, savoring the cool fall breeze. Snow was threatening for a while now and although it would make it more difficult Hermione craved it. She craved the cool crisp mornings after a fresh blanket of snow fell on the courtyard at Hogwarts. She craved the two chocolaty hot cocoa of the great hall. She craved the cozy warm fire hearth and a good book in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione missed the simplicity of life before they went off to be heroes and right now especially after being berated by her best friend, she craved it even more.

The crunch of leaves had her twisting, wand in hand for the attacker before she could even think.

"Woah killer," Ron held up his hands.

"Ronald," Hermione breathed, her heart pounding behind her ears. "You…You shouldn't sneak up on a person like that you know."

"Sorry," he said, cocking a sideways grin. It was that same grin she loved most about Ron, easy going and carefree.

There was a time when Hermione had thought about Ron and her as more than just friends. There was a time when she could picture her life with him and the Weasleys: holidays at the burrow, her raising redheaded babies, loving the big family that she had grown to call her own. That was all gone now.

She turned back to the storm looming up ahead, pulling her knees into her chest as she wrapped her arms around them and ducked her face into herself. Ron took that as his cue to sit, throwing his legs carefully over the edge. Hermione knew that along with Ron's fear of spiders he also had a slight fear of heights, but the drop didn't stop him. He sat beside her, not saying anything. It was easy with Ron, he had become the buffer between her and Harry lately and when everything went down the year before was the first person to speak to her again, heavens knew why.

"You know he's under a lot of stress," Ron finally said after a minute. The first signs of the looming storm blanketing the nearby valley.

"We all are Ronald," she snorted.

"Yes, but it's different for him. Being the chosen and all," Ron said with a shrug of his shoulders. She understood of course. That kind of pressure had to weigh heavily on her friend and yet…

"You shouldn't be making excuses for him," she said quietly as the mist from the storm blasted up the hill. Ron looked ready to run as the wind whipped at his red shaggy hair. He desperately needed a cut.

"I'm not, just stating the obvious," Ron said.

"So you're here to apologize for him," she said.

"No of course not, but you need to give him a break okay," Ron said.

"You need to get that thing off his neck. He's not the same when he wears it," Hermione said.

"Already done," Ron pulled the locket from his shirt, the silver chain glinting on the horrid thing. It was strange being close to a horcrux. You could feel the power from it, like the decay seeping from an infected wound. It grated on her when she wore it, boring terrible thoughts into her mind, so she understood its weight.

"You carry it for the day and I'll take it tonight," she said, pulling herself off the cliff edge and offering a hand to Ron. He took it and she pulled him up, dusting the leaves from her bottom as they both turned and made their way towards the campsite.

"You don't sleep when you wear it at night," Ron said following behind her.

"How would you know, you snore so loud I'm surprised the snatchers haven't already caught on to us," she laughed, but he only gave her a weak smile. Already she could see the weight of it on him.

"I can take it now if you want," she offered, reaching out her hand.

"No," Ron said, his eyebrows crunching together. "We share the weight, Hermione."

Her heart strained at the gesture. The words she recognized from another life. She gave him a small smile just as the first drops of rain hit the canopy of leaves above.