As word of the Resurrection Stone and Luna's Galleon spread throughout the Order, the Burrow soon took up the mantle of a central hub for its members to plan. A large chunk of resistance movement arrived on the Weasley's doorstep on a nightly basis, ready for a session with Dumbledore, Harry, and Neville. Since the Burrow's cramped kitchen would have been stretched to the breaking point at their arrival, meetings were moved into the back garden, where Order members discussed infiltration tactics and attack formations by the light of a dying June sun.

Hermione was present at all of these meetings, of course. She knew that it would be foolish of her not to try and help the Order in any way she could . . . and yet at the same time, Hermione also could not pretend that she was growing increasingly unnerved by them. There was just something about the prospect of the looming battle that made her heart pound and her palms sweat. She went to great lengths to hide her discomfort from the other Order members, lest she worry them, or worse - make herself appear cowardly. On one such evening, as the Order dispersed from the Burrow's back lawn, Hermione hurried quickly towards the back door, hoping to avoid a conversation with any of them. But just as she allowed herself to believe that she was in the clear, Ron caught up to her as she started towards the house. It only took him one look to know that something was wrong.

"Merlin, Hermione, the Grey Lady has a better tan than you do." He said. "What is it?"

"Just because I'm pale doesn't mean you can tease me about it, Ron." Hermione lied transparently, desperately. "Sunbathing is terrible for your skin, anyway. I'd much prefer - "

"I can tell when you're lying to me, you know." He said quietly, cutting her off.

Hermione set her jaw. She changed directions; now they were headed around the other side of the Burrow, where they could have a bit of peace and quiet. When they had reached solitude under the shade of the orchard trees, Hermione turned to Ron. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but to her dismay, the right words simply would not roll off her tongue.

"Hermione, if it's about the ink I spilled on your copy of Numerology and Grammatica this morning, I've already apologized for accidentally siphoning off the words too - "

"No, no, I'm not angry with you."

"Well, what are you, then?"

Hermione's lips traced the words several times before she could finally get them out of her mouth.

"I'm - I'm scared, Ron."

"You're always worrying about something." Ron answered. "Homework, exam results . . ."

"The possible end of the world?" Hermione finished in a shrill voice. "It's perfectly natural for me to be just a bit nervous about it!"

"Exactly. We're about to take on bleeding You-Know-Who here." Ron took her hands and looked into her eyes. "All of us are scared."

Hermione smiled wryly, swinging his arms listlessly. "It's just that the plan relies so heavily on us - us! And I just - what if I mess up, what if I'm the one to ruin it? What if he's sitting there at Hogwarts, waiting for us to walk into his trap? What if - "

Ron kissed her. She had not been expecting it; he caught her off guard, and for a moment she stood still, surprised. But the kiss was sudden and passionate, stopping her words as they tumbled, unmitigated, out of her mouth. The waves of pleasure flowed over her, immediately intoxicating her completely; Hermione responded to his ferocity with mirrored enthusiasm. She could feel every stich of Ron's homemade sweater pressing against her skin as he pulled her close to his body, locking them in a tight embrace. When they finally broke apart, some time later, they stayed wrapped around one another with just inches between them. Hermione looked up at Ron and found herself a great deal calmer than she had been before.

"Better?" he murmured.

Hermione smiled in spite of herself. "I should have expected that." She said. "You were never one for chats about feelings."

"No, that was always sort of your area of expertise." Ron grinned. "If you have any questions about Quidditch, though, I'd be happy to answer them."

Hermione laughed and leaned into Ron, resting her head on his chest. His breath tickled her neck, one of his hands running slowly through her hair. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation, and for a moment there was contented silence between them. At each gentle brush of Ron's fingertips, Hermione felt a bolt of invisible lightning pierce her skin, raising the hair on the back of her neck and making her shiver. The electric feeling steadily grew as they held each other, increasing until, at its climax, Hermione was left with a curious sensation. It felt like some sort of sensory overload; as if she had been stimulated so much that she just couldn't feel any more. It was both unnerving and invigorating, and yet Hermione would give anything for the feeling to last.

"I love you."

Hermione's eyes opened quickly. She looked up at Ron, lips parted in surprise. There was a flush in his cheeks that was perhaps a bit brighter than normal, but other than that he seemed as calm and collected as if he had just commented on the weather. He met her gaze with steadfast certainty.

Hermione had looked into those same eyes more times than she could count. It had been a secret of hers when she was just a girl, but she had always found them to be completely enthralling. Even during those confusing years when their friendship had not yet blossomed into something more, Hermione caught herself staring into them more times than she would have liked to admit. But as time went on, she only found herself drawn to them at an increasing rate. She couldn't help it; those deep brown eyes never failed to capture her attention.

Years passed, and Ron began to change from a boy to a man. And yet even in light of all the terrible events that had marked his rather abnormal childhood, and everything that had happened since Voldemort's return and Harry's death, even with the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders . . . Ron's eyes still held the same warmth and light they always had. Though now he appeared much older than he was, his features aged by the worry of war, Ron's eyes still matched those of the grubby little schoolboy who had grown up alongside her. Who had stood by her side through years of hardship and struggle. Whom Hermione was so fiercely proud to call her most trusted companion. Her closest friend.

Her love.

When she kissed him, it was like nothing she had ever felt before. His lips were fire, igniting something deep within her, something that she had never known existed. Now fierce passion consumed Hermione, and she gripped Ron tighter still, glorying in the sensation, thinking that if it intensified, she might just go mad -

The kiss softened, slowed. The animalistic ferocity that had possessed Hermione a moment before lessened, and she blushed, embarrassed to have let her body rule over her mind if only for a moment. Instead it was replaced with a dull hum of energy, which she could feel most intensely where Ron's arms encircled her, and where his fingertips brushed over the exposed small of her back. She could stay here forever, wanting for nothing else but this wonderful feeling of the one she loved against her. Hermione closed her eyes. This, she thought, was bliss.

"I love you, too."


Luna looked down at the Resurrection Stone in her hand, tracing the jagged crack in its black gem with her finger. "I'm going to talk to her." She said, looking up. "Ginny."

Harry's translucent image stood before her, shifting his weight on the floor of the Burrow's living room. He raised his eyebrows as she spoke.

"About . . . ?"

"You."

"Me."

"Yes. But I thought it might be a good idea to ask you first."

He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Are you sure about this?"

"Positive."

"She's not going to listen."

"Oh, I'm well aware."

Harry blinked, then continued on. "I don't know, Luna. I'm just afraid she'll . . . well, you know what she's like. She's . . . " Harry trailed off, gritting his teeth, but he forced himself to finish his sentence: "She's mad."

"I do." Luna said calmly. "And I think it's about time she got better."

For a long moment, Harry was silent. He licked his lips, opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again. "Of course you can talk to her, Luna." Harry finally said. "You didn't even have to ask."

She smiled at him. "I'll leave this here, then."

Harry nodded once, but remained silent. Luna's hand hovered over the coffee table for a split second, and then she let the ring sit gently onto the notched wood. The moment the Resurrection Stone slipped through her fingers, Harry's body flickered and vanished. With one last contemplative glance at the fractured stone, Luna turned in a whirl of curly blonde hair and headed up the stairs.

Ginny was in her room, predictably, though at the request of her mother the door had been left ajar. The window was thrown open, and Ginny hung out of it, a summery breeze catching her gnarled hair.

"What are you doing, Ginny?" Luna asked, when her entrance did not elicit a response from the girl.

"I tried to brush my hair," Ginny answered, pointing at her bed without moving her head. Lying on the linen was an ancient comb, which was missing several teeth and wrapped with a number of knotted ginger strands. "It didn't work. So the wind will blow it straight."

Luna smiled. "I'm afraid the wind's not going to do very much for you." She crossed the room and picked up the weathered comb, then approached Ginny. "Will you let me? I promise not to hurt you."

Ginny hesitated for a moment, then nodded and relaxed back into the window seat she was kneeling on. Luna sat behind her and attempted to work out the knots as gently as she could; a difficult task, considering Ginny's hair was no longer anything more than a mass of wild snarls. She - and her mother, for that matter - had evidently given up long ago.

"Have you been through a hurricane recently, Ginny?" Luna half-smiled, half-grimaced; the comb did next to nothing to untangle Ginny's hair.

The question momentarily distracted Ginny from her discomfort. "What?" She grunted.

"Your hair's messier than a doxy nest. It must have taken a lot of wind to make it so knotty."

Ginny grinned. "No . . . I just don't like brushing."

"Well, I can see why!"

Ginny giggled. There was silence for a moment, and then Luna spoke again.

"Don't you ever get lonely up here?" She asked.

"A bit." Ginny said thoughtfully. "It was worse before, though."

"Before you started visiting us every now and again?"

"Yes." Ginny answered. She paused. Then: "I feel better now."

"That's good."

"I didn't think it would be fun," she went on, "Going outside, I mean. But Harry was right. It . . . it makes me happy."

"That's wonderful, Ginny. I'm very proud of you." Luna said. "You still like to spend an awful lot of time up here, though, don't you?"

Ginny sucked in a big breath. Luna felt her tense slightly; she could almost see the girl's eyes widen with irrational fear. "Just because it's nice doesn't mean it's not scary." Ginny said softly.

"It can be a good thing to face your fears every once in a while." Luna said calmly. "There are people who spend their whole lives being so afraid that they don't even try to conquer their fear. And you know what? They'll never know if they could have or not, because they never took the chance."

Ginny was very still. Her head turned slightly to the side, brows furrowed, trying to catch a glimpse of Luna out of the corner of her eye. But Luna remained as calm and serene as ever; done with one section of Ginny's hair, she smoothed it out and started work on another cluster of large knots. As she worked, she spoke gently again, knowing that Ginny was thinking hard.

"But you're a Gryffindor, aren't you? The house of the proud, and the strong, and the brave. You've proven countless times that you can be just as fierce as a lion. Don't you remember the Ministry when we were fifteen? And the Astronomy Tower, the night Dumbledore died? And the Battle. Last year, when you fought so hard and so well that you held your own against Bellatrix Lestrange for a full half hour until Neville and I showed up. I've seen you do things that I'd never dare attempt, and watched you succeed. I've seen you defy the odds time and time again. I've seen you look You-Know-Who straight in the eye and stand right up against him." Luna said. She leaned to the side, so that she and Ginny could make eye contact. "You are a fighter, Ginny Weasley. You are not afraid. You just think you are."

Ginny's mouth opened and closed several times, almost as round and wide as her glassy eyes, which stared at Luna with a wide, strange variety of emotions that Luna had trouble picking out. Was it anger that Luna saw, or perhaps understanding, surprise, or confusion? She could not tell, for after a long moment, a blotchy red flush crept up Ginny's neck and she swiveled around again. Luna took this as her cue to keep brushing.

After a lengthy silence, Ginny swallowed hard and spoke quietly. "That stuff was a long time ago."

"Oh, but this sort of thing never really goes away." Luna responded. "Didn't you know that? An elephant never forgets, right?"

Ginny's smile flickered on, halfhearted and nervous. "I'm not an elephant." she muttered.

"No," Luna said, putting down her brush and smoothing Ginny's now-sleek hair with her fingers. "You're a valiant, heroic girl and a wonderful friend. And I know what's happening right now is very hard and very scary, but I still believe in you. I always will."

Ginny's smile sagged and faded. It was replaced by another odd expression that again Luna found hard to place; Ginny's face registered some strange emotion between curiosity and fear. Neither seemed to win over the other as she continued to meet Luna's gaze, silently and stoically, unblinking. Then a little crease appeared between her brows, and after a moment she blinked and looked away. Ginny turned so that her head was facing down, and said no more for a long time. Though the thin sheets of red hair that fell over Ginny's face as she remained stock-still, Luna could see her eminent frown, and she knew that the girl was thinking, and hard. On what, Luna could not say for sure.

When, after several minutes, Ginny looked up and brushed the hair out of her eyes, Luna saw that her eyes were very red, though she did not appear to have been crying.

"I don't understand." She said.

Luna swallowed. She hadn't wanted to get her hopes up, but nevertheless, Luna's heart sank at Ginny's words.

"What I meant," Luna began, "Was that you can do this. It's all in your - " Before she could finish her sentence, Ginny cut across her, looking even more confused than ever, but also, curiously, upset.

"No, no, no." Ginny said, color rising to her face. "Why are you saying these things?"

Ginny was breathing very quickly, eyes bulging. Luna chose her next words carefully, for fear of causing her sudden and unexplainable burst of anger to grow.

"Because they're true."

"No, they're not!"

"Of course they are, Ginny. You just need to have confidence in yourself."

"How can I? Everything - everything's so hard."

"You can get through it. We're going to stop Voldemort. We're going to avenge Harry. Everyone - your family, the Order, me - we're all behind you. We're going to help you."

Ginny squirmed uncomfortably. "I . . . I can't."

"You've been so strong already, Ginny." Luna said softly. "If anything, you deserve - "

"BUT I DON'T!" Ginny roared, and her defense shattered like glass: this was Ginny as Luna had never seen her before, or at least not in a long while; raw and unguarded, completely vulnerable. In an instant she was screaming with absolute rage. "I DON'T - DESERVE - A DAMN - THING! NOT A THOUGHT, NOT A WORD, AND CERTAINLY NOT YOUR FUCKING PRAISE!"

She leapt off the window seat, eyes alight. Luna instinctively shrank back, caught off guard by Ginny's sudden ferocity, but the girl seemed not to notice Luna. Instead she turned and stomped about her room at a frantic pace. All semblance of normalcy gone, Ginny had succumbed to the deepest recesses of madness. She kicked at her dresser to vent her anger, toppling it to the ground, but even with her bare feet, she seemed to feel no pain. Luna wondered if it was adrenaline coursing through her veins, or the beginnings of Ginny's uncontrollable bouts of magic.

"HARRY DIED, AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT I DID? NOTHING!" Ginny shouted, though it seemed more to herself than to Luna. "I FOUND HIS RING, AND WHAT DID I DO? NOTHING!" - Ginny overturned her bedside table, sending her belongings flying - "I COULD HAVE TALKED TO DUMBLEDORE, AND WHAT DID I DO?" - she picked up a vase and hurled it across the room, smashing it against a wall - "NOTHING! I HAD THE RING FOR A WHOLE GODDAMN YEAR! I COULD HAVE GIVEN IT TO YOU! I COULD HAVE ENDED THIS AGES AGO, AND I - DID - NOTHING!"

Ginny seized the bedside table once more and swung it at the floor; with an almighty crash, the legs gave way. Left with no more furniture to demolish, Ginny stood in a momentary lull, chest heaving. Then her eye caught the mirror hanging askew on the opposite wall. As if in a trance, Ginny shuffled through piles of broken china and splintered wood. When she reached the mirror, she stared at herself as if there was a stranger in the glass.

"Don't you understand?" She said, in a threateningly quiet voice. "Don't you know how much it hurts me when you say those things? I'm not strong. I'm not brave." Ginny spat. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lifted one hand. Her fingers shook as she touched the cold glass, looking on at her reflection with wide and fearful eyes. She stared into the mirror for a moment that seemed like eternity, and then her fingers began to slide down on the glass. For a fraction of a second Luna believed that the danger had passed, but soon she saw that something was not quite right with Ginny's gaze. Before she could act, Ginny struck.

"I AM WEAK!"

Ginny's fist pounded the glass with staggering force as she roared, and the mirror shattered into a thousand different pieces. But instead of fragmenting and clattering to the ground, the shards shot through the air like a thousand silver daggers, as objects and debris from all over the room freed themselves from gravity's clutches and flung themselves in every direction. They shattered picture frames and dented walls, causing complete and utter chaos. The room became a whirlwind of flying objects; Luna found herself taking shelter behind a shield charm, watching Ginny's bedroom tear itself apart. And Ginny herself stood tall, miraculously still unharmed, screaming in all her renewed fury and rage.

"I CAN'T FIGHT! I CAN'T HELP! I CAN'T EVEN LEAVE THIS GOD - DAMNED - ROOM!" Ginny shrieked. "AND NOW HARRY'S LEAVING, AND I JUST CAN'T - FUCKING - TAKE - IT!" She seized handfuls of her own hair, twisting her fingers around and around until the ginger locks were a snarled mess once more. She seemed to chew on her words for a moment, her anger making it difficult for her to limit herself. Then, her eyes wide and deranged, she shouted her loudest yet, her voice reaching a desperate pitch. "I'M MAD!" She said as if she could not help it, the words finally tearing from her lips. "I'M MAD, I'M MAD, I'M MAD! MAD! FUCKING - MAD - "

Ginny's voice reached a peak; it cracked, and all at once, the flying objects dropped where they were. The unbearable noise stopped, and save for Ginny's labored breathing, a ringing silence filled the room. Around Ginny, furniture lay in pieces; dents dotted the walls; smashed objects and shards of broken glass littered the floor. The window had shattered, the seat below it oozing feathers like blood.

And Ginny sat in the center of it all, completely unscathed. Her eyes grew wider still, but this time, they did not bulge with anger; but with fear. She looked around the room as if she did not quite know what had happened, drew her arms in to herself, and took a shaky breath. Her eyes met Luna's as she spoke, and in an instant she was scared and innocent and childlike again.

"I'm . . . I'm sick," Ginny admitted, mortified. "And I want to get better."

For a moment, Luna and Ginny stared at one another. Then, thundering footsteps pounded up the stairs, and the door burst open with a deafening bang. Mr. Weasley entered first, eyes scanning the room for an assailant, wand aloft. When he found no Death Eaters hiding in the corners, he lowered his arm, though he still stared in disbelief at the utter destruction that lay before him. "Ginny - Luna - what ?"

Before he could finish, Mrs. Weasley pushed past, followed a millisecond later by Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, and Ron. All seemed prepared for a battle ( and Luna couldn't blame them, after the deafening noise they must have heard ) but they too stopped when the scene met their eyes.

Ginny burst into tears and dropped to her knees, cutting off any questions they may have been about to ask.

"Ginny - Ginny, dear, just - just calm down, now - " Mrs. Weasley said, utterly bewildered, as she moved to comfort her child. "Just tell mummy, what happened . . . it's all going to be fine . . . "

"No, it won't be fine!" Ginny sobbed. "I'm not fine!"

"Molly, why don't you take Ginny downstairs for a cup of tea." said Mr. Weasley, eyes swiveling from Ginny to wreckage she caused. As he spoke, they settled on Luna. "We don't want to get her excited again. Luna can tell us how this . . . tell us what happened."

Mrs. Weasley nodded and swallowed. "All right, now, dear, let's go downstairs . . . " She cooed, and Ginny, hiccupping, allowed her mother to lift her up off of the ground and lead her out of the room and downstairs.

The moment the door shut, George rounded on Luna.

"What was that? I thought we were being attacked!"

"I came to talk to her." Luna said, quite calmly.

"And this - " George stretched out his arms, indicating the mess. " - is what happened? The hell did you say?"

"I had Harry's permission." said Luna, again, acting as though Ginny's tantrum had been nothing more than a civil argument.

"Answer the question, Luna." Mr. Weasley said quietly.

Luna glanced at him for a moment, then began. "I told her she was brave. I said I believed she could get better, and . . . she didn't agree with me." She looked around, then turned back to Mr. Weasley. "I'm sorry about her bedroom, Mr. Weasley. I can repair them."

The seven of them raised their wands, and with mutters of, "Reparo!" the smashed and displaced objects began to zoom around the room once more. In contrast to the violent frenzy of their last flight, the objects floated about at a leisurely pace, settling gently in their original positions, whole and unbroken once again.

When the last few splinters of wood finished reattaching themselves to Ginny's bedside table, Mr. Weasley spoke. "And so she threw a fit."

"Yes." Luna answered.

"You should never have come up here." Ron growled, but Mr. Weasley flashed him a warning look and he fell silent.

"It was different this time, though." said Luna. "Before, whenever she was angry, she'd always be close to hallucinating, and yet she always insisted she was perfectly all right. It does sound quite strange, yes, but today I think she was in the right mind."

"In the right mind?" Bill repeated. "She smashed everything in here to pieces!"

"Did you hear anything Ginny was screaming, though?" Luna asked. "She was faulting herself. Have you noticed, she's never admitted that she's been sick? Not once. But today she said it herself - 'I'm mad.' True, she did loose control . . . but she knew exactly what she was doing. I could see it in her eyes."

A ringing silence filled the room for a moment, while Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, and Ron digested this information. Then Percy spoke quietly:

"So what you are saying . . . is that this outburst means she's getting better?"

Luna opened her mouth to answer, her head raised in the beginning of a nod, but no coherent words left her lips. Instead, she yelped suddenly. The others jumped, startled at the noise.

"The bloody hell - ?" exclaimed Ron.

Luna thrust a hand as quickly as she could into her jeans pocket. She clutched the fake Galleon, glowing with intense heat, in her first for an instant; and then Luna quickly dropped it, clutching her burned fingers with a grimace.

"I've never seen it become this hot before." Luna tilted her head, eying the circle of gold as it glinted brightly on the floor. "Not once. When we were in the DA, we were only supposed to make it burn like that if there was something really, really important we wanted . . . wanted to . . . "

Luna trailed off, her protuberant eyes widening even more as she stared at the Galleon. The heat was starting to fade, and a tiny message had become clear around the rim of the coin. She picked it up, now only slightly warm, and read the minute words several times over before looking up at the others. They stared back at her, anxious, and no one dared to speak.

"Neville's managed to get out." Luna said in a cracked voice. "But the potion's ready. We've got to attack. Now."