Chapter Sixteen

Hermione was quietly studying her NEWT-level Transfiguration textbook, feeling frustrated in spite of herself. She wasn't going to be taking this exam. She couldn't shake her feelings about that, no matter how much she wanted to. Harry was more important to her, saving the world was more important to her. She'd made the choice. But she still clung tightly to the urge to study. Whether she had the certification or not, she would be well-educated. No ifs, ands, or buts.

She heard the knock on the front door, but her parents had taken the afternoon away from their practice to prepare a dinner for some friends. The knock was probably a delivery from the specialty grocer on the corner or something.

But her mother's voice sounded hesitant when she spoke to their visitor. Hermione would not have heard a word, but her mother's tone made her sit up and take notice.

"You're . . . you're Harry, then? Hermione's boyfriend?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Granger."

"Yes, it is certainly is. Hermione, love, your Harry is here!"

Hermione was instantly panicked. Why on earth was Harry here? After what had happened to Tonks and Simon, he should know better than to be out in public like this! She hurried out to meet him, knowing that Harry would have a damn good reason for being here and anxious to discover what it was. Had something happened to Sirius?

"Oh, there you are," he said in a relieved tone. He was still on the doorstep.

"Mother, at least let him come in," Hermione scolded.

Her mother looked worried. Hermione thought it was because she'd been told enough to realise Harry wouldn't be here if something weren't wrong. But then Hermione was stopped by Harry himself. He looked . . . nonchalant. Perfectly relaxed, in fact.

"Harry, what are you doing here?"

"I needed to see you," he said, stepping in when Mum moved back. "I had a really hard night, and I thought it would help if I came here."

This was delivered too casually. He was obviously trying to tell her something about a dream from Voldemort, but couldn't because Mum was here. But that still didn't make sense, he would have wanted her to come to Grimmauld Place to talk.

"Of course," she frowned, motioning him to follow her. "Let's go talk in the kitchen."

He stepped closer to her, looking relieved. "Thanks." He bent his head down to kiss her, and she smiled, despite herself. He loved to nuzzle his face in her hair. But wait . . . he was coming down to kiss her mouth? Harry wouldn't just do that without warning, with no gentle hand on her shoulder or around her waist . . .

She ducked her head so his lips landed on her cheek, and forced herself to smile up at him as she led him to the kitchen. Her heart pounded so loudly she thought he must be able to hear it. She tried not to let him see her hands start to shake.

Her father was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. Hermione felt like her vision was going narrow, and was made dizzy by the sight of those rhythmic flashes of knife— no! She was not going to faint, not now!

"Dad, this is Harry. Harry, my father."

"Nice to meet you, sir."

They shook hands, after Dad wiped his hands on a towel. Hermione tried not to throw up.

"May we have the kitchen for a bit?"

"Hermione, dear," her father said sternly, eyeing his dinner preparations.

She clenched her jaw and looked at him. "Dad, you know what I just realised? We don't have that tea that Harry likes. I know you and Mum had to pop down to the store for something, so would you mind going now so you can get the tea?"

Her dad gave her a long, searching look, and she looked back as fiercely as she knew how. Of course he didn't know what tea, but the hard expression she gave him kept him from asking. She didn't know if he'd see her desperation and fear, or just think she needed to talk to her boyfriend privately, but her father trusted her. With reluctance, he nodded.

"Of course, dear. We did need a few things, so we'll go now."

At her side, Harry looked upset, but when she beamed up at him, he smiled back.

"Sorry the tea will have to wait a few minutes, but the store is just there on the corner. You don't mind?"

"Of course not," he smiled.

"Let's sit down, then," she said. She heard her parents putting on their jackets in the hallway. Hurry, she begged them. She forced herself to brush her hand over Harry's arm as they sat down in the breakfast nook, praying it would stall him just another moment. Her heart was thumping so hard now that it hurt. Her pulse was threatening to carry her away. Then the front door closed, and she drew a deep breath. She looked into the beautiful, clear green eyes she loved so well, and tried not to shudder in revulsion.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

He frowned, but it changed quickly to a snarl as he realised he was caught, and they both stand up, drawing their wands at exactly the same time.

"Avada Kedavra!" he shouted.

She flung herself onto the ground and felt the spell sizzle over her head. Oh Merlin, oh no. He wasn't wasting time.

She was almost underneath the table. "Reducto!" she shouted, pointing her wand directly over her head, and rolled herself out of the way. The table exploded upward in a shower of splinters, and the disguised Death Eater shrieked as the bits of table caught his face, neck, and arms.

"Stupefy!" It. bounced off him and careened toward her. She rolled again, and clambered up to her feet, knowing she couldn't fight from the ground for long.

It was so eerie, to watch Harry grin at her with wicked pleasure. This man was playing with her, certain that he could kill her at his leisure. She was only young, after all, and inexperienced. But he, much as he pretended to, didn't know her.

"Relashio!"

He blocked it, and sent a curse that she barely dodged, light whizzing past her that shattered the kitchen window.

"Stupefy!"

He dodged it, and countered by slashing at her. She blocked it, but he cast the Sectumsempra furiously, biting into the walls and cutting the dishwasher in half. Water gushed out.

Hermione saw an opportunity. She caught the water pumping out, pushed it all in his direction while casting the most powerful warming charms possible, so that he was blasted by a jet of boiling steam. He screamed in pain, his skin turning viciously red and his hair dripping hot water down his back so that he writhed in pain. He waved his wand and swept the steam away, but the water kept pumping out of the bisected appliance. The floor was becoming flooded.

Then he hit her with a curse that stripped her throat instantly raw. She tried to speak, and only a hoarse croak issued forth. And it hurt. Her throat was on fire, and she could feel hot tears run down her cheeks. And he was smiling at her like he was enjoying it. It wasn't as if she were in any doubt now, but that more than anything convinced her she was not dueling her boyfriend. He would never have that look on his face, not when seeing a person in pain.

"Now, my pretty thing, since you are unable—," he began, then his eyes opened in shock, and with a howl he tried to grab at his wand with his left hand as it flew from his right, but he missed.

She caught it, and returned that wicked grin. She didn't need her voice, and he was a fool to think so. A jet of red light flew from her wand and knocked him straight into the wall. He looked up at her with confusion, groaning. She stood over him, panting for breath.

"They're coming," he muttered. "When I don't return, they'll come."

Hermione felt another leap of fear. This wasn't over. She had to finish this and get out. She silently Petrified him. Making sure he saw it, she snapped his wand over her knee and tossed the pieces through the jaggedly broken kitchen window. Then she ran.

She didn't pause to take in the destruction of her home. She didn't see the slashed wallpaper, curling down the wall, or the shattered dishes that had fallen when the bottom of the cupboard had been sliced off. Didn't take in the chunks of table that littered the flooded floor. She just ran.

Her parents were already inside the grocer's, but she didn't care about making a scene. She ran straight to them.

". . . . think they're having an argument?" she heard her mother say. "Maybe we shouldn't have left them alone to— Hermione!" she cried out.

Hermione threw herself at her parents, and began to frantically drag them toward the door.

"Dearest, what's happened?" her father said, reaching out his hand and touching it to her face. His fingers came away red with blood. She hadn't known she'd been hit, and wildly wondered if it was from the table or from his curses. Her clothes were dripping with water, sweat, and blood, and her hair was full of splintered wood. Her parents were just staring at her. Along with every other patron in the store.

She just yanked on them again, trying to get them to follow her. They had to go now.

"Did Harry do this to you?"

She struggled to speak, and felt herself crying again from the torture of it. "Not . . . Harry . . ." she rasped. "Disguise. Hurry. Run."

Completely bemused, they followed her out of the store. She led them around the corner to the back of the store, where it jutted up against a complex of houses. She just hoped no one was looking. One parent in each arm, she Apparated directly to the front stoop of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

She could barely make her trembling hand into a fist to knock on the door, but she did it. Her parents were clutching each other and fighting dizziness, looking green. The door opened, and there was Harry, her Harry, the real Harry.

"Hermione," he said in shock, taking in her appearance. Not grinning at her pain. Looking scared. She fell into his arms and began to sob. He held her in one arm and used the other to yank her parents inside. He slammed the door shut behind them, then turned his full attention to her, holding her close. "Shh, you're all right now. Hermione, shh. Don't cry. It's over. It's all over." He looked at her parents. "What happened?"

"I'm sure I don't know," Mum said in a faint voice.

Dad was just as shaken, but it came out angry. "You, boy, are what happened. You came to our house, and she sent us to the store, and then . . ."

Harry shook his head in denial. "I haven't gone anywhere. Hermione?"

"Polyjuice," she whispered past the pain in her throat. "Looked like you. Got ingredient . . . from school, maybe."

"Who?"

"Don't know. Fought him off. Said more were coming. Ran."

"You're hurt," he said softly, seeing the blood smeared on his shirt. "Come with me. Sirius! Sirius!"

Sirius appeared in the hallway, looking like he'd come from the study. "What is it?"

"Take these two into the kitchen. Maybe give them something for shock? I have to take care of Hermione."

"Hermione, what happened?" Sirius asked in alarm.

She just shook her head, leaning against the steady rock of her boyfriend.

"I don't know everything yet, but it seems like a Death Eater managed to disguise himself as me and got into their house. Hermione fought with him."

"Is he dead?" Sirius asked immediately.

She shook her head mutely.

"I'll go."

"No," she croaked. "Reinforcements. Too late."

Sirius scowled, then gave her a terse nod, and turned to her parents. "You're Mr. and Mrs. Granger? I'm Sirius Black, Harry's godfather and one of Hermione's professors. Why don't you come with me into the kitchen? I'll get you some tea or some coffee . . ."

Hermione gave the staircase a dull look when Harry led her over to it. It looked impossibly tall. So she didn't protest when he scooped her up and carried her, stomping on the stairs and shouting, "Draco!" like it was some kind of emergency. It was just a little cut, after all . . . Well, now her head was throbbing, so maybe she'd bumped it or been hit by the table. And her throat did hurt pretty awfully. And she thought she might have broken one of her fingers when she'd rolled on the floor. Maybe it was a little bit urgent.

Harry idly played his fingers through Hermione's hair as he looked over the documents Sirius had procured. He hadn't let her out of his sight since she had arrived with her parents three days ago. Her parents had been utterly shocked by the whole thing, and were understandably angry about not being allowed to go home. But Harry certainly wasn't going to argue about having his girlfriend right here, where she was safe, and she didn't seem to be issuing too many complaints herself. Even if he was ever so proud of her, he didn't think she needed to do it twice.

Sirius had taken a few members of the Order down to clear up the water and fix the broken window and table so that no one would know anything was wrong. Moody had arranged for someone to watch the house that first day, but they all agreed it was pointless. She'd gotten away, and she wasn't going to be dumb enough to come back. Surely the Death Eaters knew that and wouldn't be returning, either.

"They look perfect," Harry said with satisfaction, returning the documents to their envelope and setting it on the arm of the sofa. "Did you get the plane tickets?"

Hermione nodded, and leaned into him with a sigh. She knew what needed to be done, but she didn't really want to talk about it. Of course, she'd been horrified when Harry had pointed out all the things she was leaving out of her plan— birth records and identification cards, bank accounts, motor vehicle registration. The plan was to make her parents think they were someone else, a couple with no children who were dead set on opening up a new practice in Australia. Hermione hadn't really thought about all the things that went into being a legitimate person with the ability to open a business. He had no doubt she would be able to perform the magic required, but she'd be leaving her parents in quite a fix without all this.

Luckily for them, the person Sirius had gotten the identification for Harry Black remembered Sirius, and was willing to work with him again. He'd rushed the delivery, as well, for a small (okay, huge) fee.

"I don't want to do this," Hermione whispered. She was cuddled against his chest, almost lying down, staring at the wall.

His arms, so carefully wrapped around her, tightened just a bit. "I know."

"They don't want me to do it."

"They don't? I thought they said they understood."

"They do, and they're okay with going, but . . . they want me to come with them. They say they won't do it unless I come along."

Harry was silent, trying to think of what to say. On the one hand, he thought it would rip his heart right out of his chest to lose her. But if she was so far away, so hidden . . .

"You could, you know," he said softly. "Go with them. If you decide to do that, I won't argue. Having you safe would be very comforting to me, to say the least."

Hermione didn't even bother to turn around. "We've been over this."

He kissed the top of her head. "We have. Can't blame me for trying, though."

She sighed, and rested her hand on top of his. "I love you."

No more needed to be said.

Harry was going to stay with her throughout the process. They were going to do it in front of the Granger's dentistry practice, with a cab already on the way to take them to the airport. Harry and Hermione would stay under the Invisibility Cloak so they wouldn't have to explain their presence, and they'd Apparate as soon as the cab had gone.

But first, they just rested there, while Hermione prepared herself to reach into her mother's brain and make her forget she had a daughter.

"They knew we would respond, so they were wearing masks to make identification impossible," Kingsley continued, his voice dulled by the horror of his report.

Amelia had long since dropped her head into her hands, but she was listening. As best she could while dealing with her fury and thinking, Not this, not again. It's just like last time. No, it's worse than last time.

"When we arrived, they had already killed two of the Muggles they were attacking. The Aurors prevented any further Muggle death, but Dawlish was killed in the fight." Kingsley must be as exhausted as she was, to say that without even flinching. He'd worked with Dawlish. But he just continued on, in a heartbreakingly hollow voice. "The Muggle bodies had sustained injuries that could be explained as an automobile accident, so we staged one of those for the police to discover. The Muggles who were still alive were Obliviated and sent on their way. We did capture one of the attackers, though. He was taken alive."

Amelia picked her head up. "We have a Death Eater?"

"Yes, Minister."

"What has he said?"

"Nothing, yet. He refuses to talk."

"Well, dose him with Veritaserum!" she snapped. "This is no time for niceties, Kingsley! We need to know if there are other attacks on Muggle shopping centers planned, among other things. Here," she riffled through a stack of forms in her desk drawer, withdrawing the one that granted rights to use the potion during interrogation. She scrawled her signature across the bottom and thrust it toward him. "Here."

She felt a little pang about using it. Only the Wizengamot should be able to decide on the use of Veritaserum, but she had been forced to call a state of emergency two weeks ago, when Hogwarts had begun its autumn term. Severus Snape, the slimy bastard of a new Headmaster, had declared that only pureblooded children could attend the school this year. And Death Eaters had begun targeting the homes of those who were barred from school. The entire Ministry was working around the clock to keep those children safe. They stopped the attacks when they could, set up impromptu classes on defense for those who wanted to learn, helped others go into hiding. Some were fleeing the country, entirely, and just how that was going to make magical Britain look to the rest of the world . . .

Kingsley was just looking at the parchment, sort of befuddled. She knew he was tired, and upset about the loss of Dawlish, but they really had no time for this.

"Kingsley! Take this and carry it out at once!"

He could see the piece of parchment waving in front of him, and he knew she wanted him to take it. His arm came up slowly, like it was moving through some thick liquid. Had to act normal, had to arouse no suspicion . . . But it was time. The time had come to fulfill his purpose in coming to work this morning. Minister Bones was making things awfully difficult for them, and he had to fix that.

He stood up and drew his wand. One simple spell, and this enormous problem would be taken care of. She wouldn't trouble them anymore.

"Kingsley?" she was saying in a very different voice. Not so impatient now, was she? Not at the point of his wand.

"I'm sorry, Minister," he murmured. Then he blinked. He was sorry, wasn't he? He shouldn't be sorry. He wanted to do this. He was supposed to kill her. But why? Why would he want to kill his boss? That didn't make any sense, did it?

"Kingsley, snap out of it!"

No, this was necessary, of course. She was an old woman who snapped at everyone and expected to get her way, and it was causing people to die and be put into prison. Yes, she had to die. Of course. But that still didn't seem right.

"Avada Kedavra," he mumbled, and a pathetic green fizzle hit her desk and caused a curl of smoke to rise from it.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt, you fight this off, do you hear me?" she was shouting, and she had her own wand out now.

Fight what off? He wasn't sure. Fight her?

"Minister?" he tried to ask.

"Kingsley, listen to me. You have been placed under the Imperius Curse, do you understand? You don't want to kill me. Someone else had ordered you to do that, and I know you are much stronger than them. Fight off that curse, Shacklebolt!"

Oh. That made so much sense now. Yes.

With a tremendous effort, he thrust off the feeling of moving through liquid, thrust away those confusing feelings of wanting to kill her. He didn't like killing people. Of course not. He was a good person! He was an Auror! Well, now he was Undersecretary to the Minister. And he certainly wasn't going to kill her, what a foolish notion.

Abruptly, his legs gave out. Luckily there was a chair next to him, and he managed to drop into it. His wand clattered to the floor.

He stared at her in shock. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, feeling himself go cold. "By mighty Merlin, I never thought . . . never thought they could get to me. Are you all right?"

"All right? I'm fine! You're far too strong for that silly curse to work, you couldn't even manage to ruin my desk!" she said briskly. But she was pale and there was sweat on her forehead.

He carefully squeezed his hands together. He was sort of numb. They sat in silence, because she was patiently waiting while he struggled to find something to say. "Minister, I think it might be best if I resign right now. This was far too close a call . . ."

"Don't be ridiculous," she sniffed. "You are far too useful to resign. I need you."

"Minister, I almost killed you . . ."

"Come now, Kingsley, I thought I told you to call me Amelia," she chided. "You can't possibly think that would work twice? They won't attempt to put you under that curse again."

"No, but it does mean someone here at the Ministry is a Death Eater," Kingsley pointed out. "And they could use me to get to you in some other way."

"We already knew we had that problem," she argued. "Those Death Eaters know far too much about what goes on in my Ministry. However, using you to get to me would be much less problem if I stopped coming in to the office. I shall simply work from home."

"Minister, that is not a good idea," he said carefully. "The public needs to see you presenting a strong front."

"The public needs to see me not getting murdered in my office."

He flinched, feeling cold all over again.

"Oh, do perk up, Kingsley. There is a Death Eater in a holding cell, and you have a parchment granting permission to interrogate him. I should think we'd find out a way to plug up this leak in the Ministry if you'd hurry along to use that permission."

She was a very formidable witch, indeed. Kingsley felt himself beginning to smile. "Right away, Minister."

"And then you will take the rest of the day off," she ordered. "And you will spend it strengthening your mental defenses. If you resign, your replacement is likely to be much more vulnerable than you, did you think of that? You had better recover from this and be back on form tomorrow."

"Yes, Minister."

"If you ever try to kill me again, Kingsley, I shall have to fire you."

Now he did smile. "Yes, Minister."

"I told you, it's Amelia!"

Sirius had the Daily Prophet hovering at eye level in front of his breakfast when Harry and Hermione came downstairs to find something to eat.

"Please tell me you didn't go out to purchase that," Harry said.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "What do you take me for?" he demanded through a mouthful of hot cereal.

Harry and Hermione shared a look, and they held back their laughter.

"I asked Draco to start bringing it over when everyone is finished with it at the Tonks'. I get all the news from the Order, but I want to know what the press is saying."

"Nothing relevant, I'd wager."

"You'd be losing money," Sirius cautioned.

"Really?"

The two young people sat down at the table and started browsing through the pages that Sirius had finished reading.

"They're actually taking things seriously, aren't they?" Harry said in wonder.

"As long as you're reading between the lines," Hermione agreed.

"They're afraid to come out and say what they mean, when it could get them killed. They have to be cautious."

"Then what's the point of saying anything?" Hermione sniffed.

"Look at this, Miss Garnet has an article on the second page! And it isn't even about me!"

Hermione made a face at him.

"I can't help being front-page news," Harry smirked. "It's not my fault." Then he glanced back down and frowned deeply. "Do you see this?"

"Minister Bones . . ." Hermione started reading. "She hasn't shown up in her office. Did she step down? Has she been taken? How is it that not a single person seems to know why?"

"Wouldn't say not a single person," Sirius observed, his own eyes still on page six hovering in front of him. He spooned in another mouthful of his cereal.

"Nobody said anything about it at the Order meeting last night," Harry protested. "How do you know?"

"You noticed how agitated Kingsley was, didn't you?"

"Yes. I thought it was because his job was rather stressful of late."

"I won't argue with you there."

"Sirius! Just tell us and quit acting so superior just because you already know."

"I'm not," Sirius said, looking away from the paper and turning troubled eyes on Harry. "I'm just not sure whether or not to say anything."

"Who are we going to tell?" Harry snorted. "Draco?"

Hermione ducked her head to hide her scowl. She didn't find that a very amusing joke.

Sirius sighed. "Someone got to Kingsley. They had their suspicions that there was a Death Eater in the Minister's office, but now they're certain, because someone got close enough to Kingsley to put him under the Imperius."

Hermione gasped and covered her mouth with her hand.

"They tried to force him to kill Minister Bones."

Harry nearly tore the paper when his hands clenched shut. "Is she dead?"

"No," Sirius assured him. "She saw what was happening, and he was too strong for it, and she got him to fight it off. But it shook both of them up, to say the least. So she's going to do everything she can from her house, which she's hidden. Kingsley has a way to contact her, but he's the only one in the Ministry who does."

"Why did he tell you, if he wasn't going to tell the rest of the Order?" Harry asked shrewdly.

Sirius shrugged. "They thought someone should be able to find her, just in case. The Death Eaters probably can't use Kingsley again, so they might decide to just get rid of him and try to deal with his replacement. The Minister, and Kingsley, wanted someone else from our side to be able to warn her if that happens."

"And they picked you because they're absolutely sure of you," Harry guessed.

"Sometimes it pays to be such a good guy," Sirius said with a grin.

Hermione giggled.

"Why is that funny?" Harry asked. "You know you can't encourage his pathetic attempts at humour."

"It's funny because he was a convict for nearly fifteen years, and now he's the only person the Minister trusts apart from her own Undersecretary."

Sirius had to chuckle at that as he got up to rinse out his bowl. Harry just smiled and kissed her cheek.

"What do you want for breakfast?" he asked her.

"Eggs," she said decisively. "And toast. I'll help."

"You'll sit there and relax," Harry countered. "Tea?"

"I can make tea," she insisted.

"I know you can, but I want to make it for you. Read the paper with Sirius."

She sighed in exasperation and reached for page three. She'd been a little bit sad about sending her parents away, she couldn't deny that. She'd felt rather miserable and wretched that day, in fact. But she was not so delicate that she needed to be waited on to keep her from falling apart. She said as much in a little huff under her breath while Harry clattered around with the frying pan. Sirius heard her.

"He feels like he needs to do something, to prove how much you mean to him," Sirius said softly.

"What? Why? I know that he loves me."

"Think about it. You are giving up your whole life, everything you value, for him. Your parents, your education, your home . . . you set that all aside to be with him right now. You can see that he's feeling like he's not giving you enough in return, can't you?"

"I don't want anything in return," she countered. "He gives me himself. That's enough."

Sirius looked sad. For how long? he was thinking. How long is that enough before you need some safety and some freedom, as well? No one can go on like this for long. He didn't say it aloud, which was fortunate. Hermione would likely have slapped him for it.

Hermione set the paper aside after only one more page, and looked over at Harry. "Things are getting very ugly out there," she said.

"I noticed. Attacks on Muggleborns have skyrocketed. The Ministry can't keep up."

"So we'll start looking for the two missing Horcruxes today?"

Harry was buttering their toast, and his hands paused. A dab of butter slid off the knife onto the counter. "I thought you might need some time to recuperate."

"My parents left two days ago, Harry. We need to get to work."

"I know."

"My well-being can wait. This war can't."

"I know," Harry muttered, and the knife scraped over the bread again. "I just didn't want . . ."

Hermione rose from her chair, walked over to him, and kissed him carefully. "I know, Harry. I love you, too."

"I think we need to leave," Harry said. They were in his room, with Hermione sitting cross-legged on his bed and him in a chair beside it. Their notes about Horcruxes were spread out around Hermione, confirming for them what was left to do: locate and destroy the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw artifacts. Kill Nagini the snake. And then they could take on Voldemort.

"Leave?"

"You and I are at the top of Voldemort's priority list, now. I think we need to go. He'd rather pursue us than pursue anyone else in this house. I know it won't make a huge difference, but if it keeps them even nominally more safe . . ."

"He'll focus all his efforts on getting into this house, so long as you and I are in it," Hermione said slowly. "But he'll redirect it to locating us if we leave. Is that what you mean?"

"Yes."

"Then you're right," Hermione said. "With the number of people who know this house, and the number of people Voldemort will set to finding it, it's only a matter of time. We have to leave for our own protection, as much as theirs."

"Got it in one," Harry said with a sad smile.

"Where will we go?" Hermione asked calmly.

Harry climbed onto the bed to hold her. "God, I love you," he muttered. "I can't believe how strong you are."

"I think I'm going to fall apart when this is all over," she said. "But I can't afford to now. So, where will we go?"

"I think our best bet is to just go off the map entirely. Take a tent out into the woods and not use magic at all except to set up defensive wards around our campsite."

"I hate camping," Hermione sighed. "Okay. We'd better start packing. What should we take?"

"Some things to cook with. Bedding. Clothes. Some non-perishable food. A hatchet for firewood, a fishing rod and tackle. Um . . ."

"Book on edible plants," Hermione stepped in smoothly. She was scribbling their list down on a sheet of parchment. "No magic, you say?"

"Can't be spotted if we're not using it," Harry said grimly.

"Okay. Waterproof matches, then, and kerosene lantern with a few extra canisters of fuel. Bug repellant. We can sort out clothes and things as we go. Let's make a list of books we'll need."

Harry settled down next to her with his arm around her waist, watching the list grow as they discussed what they needed. Hermione said they didn't need to worry about size. She knew a spell that would make a single bag hold everything. Harry didn't doubt her. In fact, he resolved to watch her perform it so he'd have that very handy knowledge for his own use. He tried to keep the list small, anyway. He felt they'd be moving around a lot, and he didn't want any unnecessary clutter.

When the list was nearly complete and they were ready to start packing up, Hermione looked up at Harry with a frown.

"How is Voldemort going to find out we're not here anymore?" she asked. "This will all be sort of pointless if he comes here looking for us, anyway."

Harry nodded. "I think we'll be able to tell him."

She frowned, and tried to get him to explain, but he wouldn't say anything more. They got started packing right away, but even with all their efficiency, it still took them most of two days to gather everything together. Hermione was correct; size was no problem. They shoved some very cozy bedrolls and thermal sleeping bags into her bookbag, along with food, supplies, and gear. It might be a little awkward to retrieve, but it was light as feather.

"My good luck for dating a genius," Harry said, and kissed her forehead.

"I was thinking the same thing," she grinned.

They tried to say goodbye to Draco, but he was acting especially sarcastic and bitter, so they mostly just waved from the doorway. Harry shook hands with Simon and made him promise to study hard. To his surprise, Simon thumped him on the back and stepped away with a suspicious sheen to his eyes. They decided not to risk going to the werewolf compound, and made Simon promise to say goodbye to Remus and Dora (who couldn't really go by Tonks, now that she was married) for them.

Sirius saw them to the door. He'd been almost silent the whole time they were packing, to the point that Hermione had thought he was angry with them. She'd especially thought he was angry last night, when he and Harry disappeared into their practice room for almost two hours and then went straight up to the Potions lab to treat their injuries. But when Harry shouldered their bag and turned to give him a final farewell, Sirius' silence broke.

He grabbed Harry into the tightest hug she'd ever seen, so hard that it made her hurt just to see it.

"Goodbye, kiddo," he said hoarsely. "Your mum and dad would be so proud of you. I know I am. I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," Harry replied, sounding just as scratchy. "It's been almost ten years, did you realise that?"

"I've never let you out of my sight since then."

"I never wanted you to. But I have to go now. You've given up so much to keep me safe. It's my turn."

"I'd argue with that, but you're twice as stubborn as your mother ever was and I know you wouldn't listen."

"I love you, Sirius."

"I love you, too."

Harry finally, reluctantly, stepped out of his embrace. "We have to go."

Sirius reached out much more slowly to pull Hermione into a hug. He didn't try to squeeze her to death, thankfully. She was already crying, she didn't need it to be any worse. "Take care of him. You're a good woman, Hermione."

"Thank you," she sniffed. "I will."

"Goodbye," Harry said softly, and they turned for the door. Just when his hand fell on it, Sirius gripped his shoulder.

"Harry. Come back, okay? Just come back."

Harry didn't turn around. "I will."

They stepped through the door and shut it behind them, and Harry slumped against it for a moment, gathering himself together.

"Ready?" he whispered.

She nodded. She tried not to let herself show how nervous she was. She'd been so shocked and dismayed when Harry said the Death Eaters were watching this street, and had been doing so for days. They'd been spotted, somehow, when they were sending her parents off. The Death Eaters hadn't found a way to get to the house, yet. But they knew it was on Grimmauld Place.

They stepped off the porch.

"No, Sirius took the cat, remember?" Harry said. "We're the last ones out."

Hermione sighed deeply. "I'm going to miss that house."

"We all will, but it's better if we abandon it. Ready?"

They clasped hands and Disapparated, trusting that someone had heard their conversation. They appeared first in Hogsmeade, and immediately Disapparated again to appear at her house. They jumped in quick succession to all of the places most familiar to them, five times in a row. Then, finally, they directed themselves to the place they'd picked out. In the forest, miles away from any road, with a river running by.

They held their breath when they arrived, and kept their hands locked together. Tense and straining to hear any noise, they waited. Nothing. Little by little, they began to relax. It was nearly five minutes of standing still as stone before they agreed (whispering and feeling a bit silly for doing so) that they hadn't been followed.

They set to work. They spelled the whole area with every defensive ward they had been able to look up in two days' time, which turned out to be a lot. Even working together, they were at it for several solid minutes. Then they cleared off a nice flat space of ground and rid it of rocks and got to work setting up the tent. It was a wizarding tent, with plenty of space inside despite looking like a pup tent on the outside.

They crawled inside. There was room enough to stand up once they were through the tiny entrance. Hermione grabbed on to Harry and breathed deeply.

"I just can't relax," she confessed. "I know it worked, and we're well-hidden, but . . ."

"I know," he said, rubbing his hand in a circle over her back. "I'm still on edge, myself. But we're going to be all right. Now let's get our beds set up and our gear out, before it starts to get dark. We can go pieces in a little bit, but we've got some work to do first."

"Okay," she said, grateful to have the distraction.

They decided not to get out anything they didn't immediately need. They didn't want to have to pack it all up again, if they had to leave in a hurry. Harry said he wasn't hungry, and Hermione's stomach was too tight to eat, so they left all the cooking gear in the bag. The tent ended up looking rather sparse, that night, with just a little pile of clothes, their lamp, and their bedrolls.

Hermione began to climb into her bed, but gave the whole arrangement a doubtful look. She wouldn't be able to sleep like this. It was too dark, too quiet . . . too lonely.

"You know, it would be far more comfortable if we stacked these pads on top of one another, and zipped the two sleeping bags together," she suggested.

Harry gave her a soft smile. "I suppose it would be."

So they arranged it that way, and she crawled in when Harry gestured for her to go ahead. They had napped together three or four times, now, but this would be the first time they deliberately lay down to sleep for the night in the same bed. She knew she was blushing terribly when Harry slid in beside her, but he didn't say anything to tease her. He just gave her hand a little squeeze, lay down on his side, and left her with some space to breathe and get her bearings.

It was wonderfully cosy, both of them tucked down inside the giant sleeping bag they'd created. Hermone turned on her side so that she was facing the same direction as Harry, and hesitantly slid one arm over him so that she could comfortably snuggle up against his back. He lay very still for a moment, then put his hand over hers.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he said.

"Goodnight."

Ten minutes later found her tense and unable to sleep.

"Hermione? Are you still feeling afraid?" Harry asked sleepily.

"Yes."

"I'm going to turn around, okay?"

She moved her arm, and he slowly turned over so that he was facing her.

"We're safe here. We did very well today. You don't have anything to be afraid of, just now. Let's get some sleep."

He put his arm over her, let her head settle just under his chin, and began rubbing his hand over her back like he had earlier. She released a deep sigh, and finally felt the tension begin to leave her.

"I'm going to protect you," he murmured, and then they both drifted away.