Chapter 5: Camping

Hermione being Hermione, the clever witch had had the foresight to pack a tent in her magically extendable beaded bag. It was the same tent she, Harry and the Weasleys had stayed in during the Quidditch World Cup. There were four bunks, a kitchenette, and plenty of heating and blankets. Unfortunately, the one thing the group did lack was food.

So began a harsh existence in the wilderness. Hunting for food, Harry tried not to worry about Yaxley probably being dumped by accident inside Grimmauld Place, and instead focused all his efforts on trying to destroy the locket Horcrux. No regular spells could penetrate it, so the Trio elected to taking turns wearing the thing across their own necks. Right away, they discovered that while wearing the locket, each of them was affected emotionally, particularly in their moods and with bouts of short temper. Rose silently watched her parents and uncle trade off the responsibility with growing concern. She may have been not quite 2, but she wasn't dumb - far from it, considering she was the daughter of Hermione Granger.

"Mummy? Can I wear the pretty necklace too, please?"

"No, you may not," her mother told her sternly.

"But -"

"Rosie," Ron rumbled. "Listen to your mother."

Scavenging for food was an even bigger challenge. Rose would accompany one of her guardians in picking for mushrooms and wild blueberries. At night, deep in the woods, Hermione would then cook a meager dinner for the blended family. Ron was less mature than his own daughter about it, for while Rose ate whatever was put in front of her, Ron would mumble morosely about missing his mother's cooking. The day would end with Hermione tucking Rose into her bunk and singing her to sleep with a lullaby, her lilting soprano doing wonders in calming everyone's nerves:

"Goodnight, my someone, Goodnight, my love, Sleep tight, my someone, Sleep tight, my love, Our star is shining it's brightest light For goodnight, my someone, goodnight. Sweet dreams be yours, dear, If dreams there be. Sweet dreams to carry you close to me. I wish they may and I wish they might. Now goodnight, my someone, goodnight…."

On guard duty, listening to Hermione sing her child to sleep from outside the tent, Harry knew their living situation was eventually, rapidly, going to become untenable. Every day that they were out searching for Horcruxes was another day that he was putting a two-year-old in danger. Rose was at once a soothing and constricting presence, throwing Harry off his game just as much as she relaxed him. But what frustrated Harry all the more is that he couldn't come up with a solution to ensure the safety of his best friends' child.

It was yet another night, another simple dinner - parsnips and a single fish cut in as smallest bites as possible. Harry noted, but didn't comment on, how Hermione and Ron readily gave their daughter some of their own portions. Captured in the light of the lanterns, Rose's gaze looked far too older than her two years. The toddler wasn't an idiot - she knew, or at least sensed, the danger they were all in.

"I'm sorry," her quiet voice pinged out suddenly.

"Whatever for, princess?" Ron stared.

"I'm a mistake... I'm not supposed to be here... the bad locket said so..."

Ron flinched sharply. "When did you have on the locket?" he asked jerkily.

Rose's wide blue eyes quivered. "I... I thought I could put it on," she whispered. "While you and Mummy were asleep. Ease your burden. The voice of the bad man said that I was an accident..."

"Rosie, what have Mummy and Uncle Harry and I told you about touching...?" But Hermione waved Ron's question down, taking her child's hands in hers.

"Rose, baby... I want you to understand something... your personhood and your existence have never, not even for a second, been considered an accident. You are not a mistake... do you hear me?"

Wordlessly, Rose nodded. Hermione settled their laced fingers along her abdomen.

"Fate gave you to me for a reason. Fate smiled down on me and placed you in my womb for a reason. I was meant to be your mummy, and I will never regret that..." Hermione's voice broke as she blinked away tears. Ron put an arm around his girls.

Across from the little family, the locket slung across his throat, Harry sat brooding. They shouldn't be distracted, he thought, keeping bare-knuckle-bones house with their daughter! Didn't his friends realize they had a job to do, and Rose was just getting in the way?

"Rosebud, do you want to sleep with Mummy and Daddy in our bunk tonight?" Hermione asked sweetly.

"Yes, please," Rose chirped.

Around wintertime, just a few weeks before Christmas, Hermione reached a breakthrough.

"Harry!" she called to her friend one night after dinner. "The sword of Gryffindor is impregnated with Basilisk venom! And Basilisk venom is one of the few substances that can destroy a Horcrux!" Beside her, Rose clambered up onto a bench to get a better look over her mother's shoulder.

"You are... brilliant, Hermione! Truly!" Harry crowed.

But before they could come up with a new plan, all the lights in the tent went out, sucked into the Deluminator.

"Oh," Ron asked mock-innocently from a darkened corner of the abode. "Remembered me, have you? That's OK - you three go on ahead."

"Ron, if you've got a problem, spit and out and be done with it," Harry ordered.

He shouldn't have said that. Not while Ron was wearing the locket. Ron proceeded to get into a row with Harry about everything, from not having a real plan, to nearly starving in the wilderness, to having Rose continuously in danger.

"At least she's here! With us!"

"You never wanted her to come in the first place! At least I want my family safe!" Ron hurled back.

"And I don't? I don't want Rosie safe? Want my family safe?"

"Your parents are dead - you have no family!"

Harry lunged at Ron, Hermione emotionally getting between them even as Rose started to cry in the corner. "Ron, take it off, please take it off -"

"Fine, go! Go then! Go leave your child! Go leave the mother of your child!" Harry goaded.

He never expected Ron to call his bluff. Gathering his rucksack, the ginger rounded on Hermione.

"Well? Are you coming or are you staying?"

Hermione looked between Harry and Ron and Rose, her heart splitting three ways. "Yes, Ron, I'm staying; we have to be with Rosie, and Harry..."

"I get it. You choose him. You two deserve each other!" And Ron stalked out of the tent into the rain, Hermione pursuing him and tearfully begging for him to come back, until the CRACK of a Disapparition could be heard.

Hermione came pelting back into the tent in tears, scooped Rose up into her arms and settled them both onto the nearest bunk.

"Mummy? Where's Daddy?" Rose frowned.

"Dad... Daddy will be home soon," Hermione sobbed.

But Harry knew it was a lie.

Weeks passed. Even without the locket's assistance, Hermione slowly began to sink into a deep depression. Only Rose's chattering and innocence could bring a smile to the young witch's face, albeit a strained one. Harry watched the de-evolution with increasing unease. The mission was failing, and he knew it - had been failing even before Ron's departure dealt a critical blow. It was do or die now. Hermione was eating less and less, putting Rose's needs ahead of her own. She was so imbalanced, that a reconnaissance visit to Harry's birth place of Godric's Hollow ended in near disaster when Voldemort's snake Nagini attacked them. Rosie was nearly bitten. At one point, Hermione had a conversation with Harry that left her best mate chilled.

"Harry... if I die... please take care of my little girl... take care of my tiny rosebud... Promise me, on your honor!"

"On my honor," Harry swore, but he wasn't about to give up his best friend that easily. Because then, Ron would never forgive him.

1998 arrived. Sequestered amidst trees laden with snow, Harry and Rose watched as Hermione spent yet another evening the way she had been doing so for the past several weeks: listening to music on the wireless while pining for the father of her child. The fact that it was her turn to wear the locket didn't help matters.

"Mummy misses Daddy..." Rose whispered in a small voice to her uncle.

"Yes Mummy does miss Daddy," Harry acknowledged heavily. Then, an idea popped into his head. "Oi, maybe we can cheer her up a bit!" He whispered conspiratorially to his goddaughter. After a moment, Rose hopped up and prattled over to her mother, grasping for Hermione's hands.

"Dance with me, Mummy!"

Hermione regarded her daughter sadly. "Oh, Rosie, not right now, sweetums..."

But Harry was now already pulling Hermione to her feet, wordlessly removing the locket and casting it aside into a corner. With an easy push-and-pull, Rose prancing around at their feet, Harry encouraged Hermione to dance. Little by little, a smile forced its way onto Hermione's face. Pretty soon, the pair were dancing and boogeying along, taking turns to swing Rosie up between them, the little girl's shrieks of delight filling the air. Soon, the child was nestled in between two pairs of arms, Hermione's head on Harry's shoulder.

But the moment was to end all too soon. No sooner had the music faded away on the wind than Hermione sadly cuddled Rose close and retreated to the bunk that mother and baby shared. Harry hung his head, defeated.

Ron, where are you?