Here's 31 after a bit of a wait! Sorry, I've been pretty busy lately with school and things and I had a bit of writer's block, or else this would have come sooner. Don't forget to review on this one and please check out my other stories! Oh, and I do NOT own Harry Potter or the argument bits I used down there. All credit goes to J.K ROWLING.

The next day, after Hermione had spoken with Harry about Grindewald and Dumbledore—Carina had still been asleep, and she had had to tear herself away from the warmth the embrace provided—Harry had made it inside to get himself some rest. Except, he continuously woke up in a panic due to dreams of Nagini and Voldemort; it had gotten to the point where Carina would wake him up the moment he began to whimper, so that he would not have to endure it for long and awaken fearing for his life.

Hermione glanced up when he came out, carefully marking her page in "Hogwarts: A History" when he joined her, Carina hot on his heels. It appeared she did not want to be alone, either, and sat between the two of them. The snow was falling heavily, and the three sat in the entrance to the tent, not speaking a word; Carina shifted and huddled closer to Hermione, and Harry himself actually scooted closer as well.

Two different pairs of hands carded through her fur, though the smaller moved up her neck and then to her ears, rubbing behind them affectionately, while the larger remained in the same spot on her back, fingers moving almost absently, curling and uncurling through her fur.

Carina tilted her head as Hermione continued to scratch behind her ears, and her head turned to lick the other witch's hand; then, she turned her gray gaze to Harry, who was staring off into space, and reached over to nip his leg. He winced and glanced down at her, a small scowl on his face, but she merely tugged at his pant leg.

Yes, that's right, stop being so depressing. She flicked her tail against his back, before she lowered her head onto Hermione's leg, internally frowning. Well, then again, he's got a right to be. We all do. We were almost caught by the darkest wizard of our time, of course we have. She hit Harry again with her tail, and he tugged at her fur instinctively for retaliation. Carina did not look in his direction and growled softly; he tugged again, and her ears twitched. I'm probably the only reason these two haven't worked themselves up to the point of literal depression.

"I think we should move on again," said Harry, letting out a breath.

"I agree," came the reply for Hermione almost immediately. She ran her fingers along Carina's spine, and the wolf shivered. "Shift back. We've got packing to do if we want to go."

She snapped at the older girl half heartedly, but Hermione did not even flinch and merely stroked along her back again, causing Carina to close her eyes for a moment.

"Rina," the bookworm repeated, though she chuckled slightly. Carina's heart warmed at the old nickname. "Come on, shift back."

She did not lift her hand when the transformation occurred, and when Carina twisted and sat up, felt said hand slide from her hair to her back.

Hermione patted her on the back and stood, entering the tent with the other two following silently, already beginning to pack. Once finished, they all clasped hands and, with a sharp twist and a crack, were gone again.

When they reappeared, they were in an unfamiliar forest, the Forest of Dean, Hermione told them; Carina was not paying much attention. Instead, she had already snatched up Hermione's beaded bag and drew out the tent, before passing the mass to Harry, who quietly made his way to a small clearing and attempted to set it up.

Carina heaved a sigh and made her way over, lighting her wand so that the boy could see, and in no time, the job was done, for it was a small tent on the outside.

She left the other two to unpack the few things they needed for the tent, while she took a look around; it was maybe an hour before the sun was due to rise, so of course it was bound to be dark, but the mass of trees around them definitely did not help. She wished, if only for a moment, that she could shift into something other than a wolf, so that she could see in the dark; that would definitely come in handy.

Then again, it would be pretty interesting to fly as well, she thought, peering up through the various branches at the stars. But I'm happy with what I am. It's who I am—if I were anyone else, I doubt I'd be of much use right now. If I hadn't had to deal with all the harder things in life and grown up with my parents, then maybe I'd be some happy go lucky, trouble-making girl who enjoyed pranks and flying, like her father.

That wouldn't have been so bad. After all, she had wondered before what it would have been like to grow up with her parents, with Marlene there to kiss her when she got scrapes and bruises, with her father there to fly and play pranks with….instead, she had gotten the opposite. Her mother was dead, and she had not known her father until she was thirteen-years-old-even then, they had not met under the best of circumstances and he had never been an authority figure. Had Marlene have been alive and he had raised her from birth, he would never have consented to a full on drinking contest, and he would still be alive at this very moment, helping them on their journey.

If they were alive, that meant I would have grown up in the same home as Harry, and maybe had a brother or sister; but it's no good to dwell on things that will never be. Just like in that graveyard…

She shook her head and stuffed her hands into her pockets, staggering back slightly. Staring at the sky that long had made her rather dizzy, so she instead directed her attention elsewhere, and found Hermione waving at her from the tent.

"Carina!" she called, kneeling at the entrance. "Come on, get inside-it's freezing out here!"

And so, Carina obeyed, crawling inside the tent to find Harry sprawled out on his bed, staring at the bottom of the top bunk intently. He was thinking, she knew, and probably thinking very hard about recent events; she herself could not completely help it, either. Voldemort had been right there—right on top of them, even!—and they had just barely escaped his clutches. But, with him being Harry Potter, she also knew that he was ceaselessly blaming himself for that incident and mourning the loss of his wand, which was his only protection against the Dark Lord.

Hermione smiled slightly at her and produced a jar of bluebell flames, and she, Harry, and Carina huddled around it for most of the day until the later evening hours, when the boy had seemed to space out again.

She knew, of course, was that there was really nothing she could do about it except leave him to himself for awhile, so she got up, turned, and collapsed into an armchair, leaning back and tilting her head against the back of it to stare at the ceiling.

"Carina."

"Yeah?" mumbled Carina, not removing her eyes from the canvas that was the ceiling, knowing full well it was not going to be anything urgent asked.

"Do you think we should all just go to sleep until later instead of taking watch, or…?"

"You two sleep," said Harry suddenly, his face looming above Carina's as he leaned over her. "I'll go take watch."

The raven haired girl hummed in thought. "You can go watch, but we probably won't be sleeping. I suppose we've all slept enough, anyway."

And we've had enough nightmares for today, was left unsaid but clearly heard by Hermione and Harry, who sighed.

"You're probably right." He made his way to the tent entrance; the sun was just beginning to set. "Hermione, your wand."

Without a word, she tossed it to him and he ducked out of the tent.

Her footsteps grew closer, and Carina moved her head so that she could see the other girl perch herself in the second armchair, which was all but falling apart at the seams. It did not look very safe, but she did not seem to notice as she spoke, "What do we do now?"

"I don't know." She twisted about in her chair and somehow ended up upside down, head hanging from the seat of the chair, hair brushing the floor, and legs pointed in the air at odd angles. "I think this is something."

She was bored, and honestly, she wanted to cheer Hermione up, especially after the incident from the other night. So, she ignored the blood rushing to her brain and watched as the other girl frowned—no, wait, she was smiling. Things were just the wrong way around this way.

"Stop that, you're only going to hurt yourself the longer you stay that way."

"I think I'll be fine." And to prove her point, Carina spread out her arms, before crossing them. "See?"

"If you're completely alright," the bookworm told her, brow quirking and lips twitching. "Get up." The other witch waved her off and attempted to flip herself backward—key word, attempted. Instead of the small backflip she had been trying to attempt, she found herself hitting her head on the floor and sprawled there on her stomach, arms streched out in front of her and pounding. "I told you."

Carina groaned and threw her arms over her head. "Shut up."

She could hear Hermione start to laugh and inwardly grumbled to herself. At least I got that part right. Whatever happened to all Blacks being full of grace and poise, huh? There wasn't anything graceful about that stunt—I only made a fool out of myself…

"Next time, maybe you should listen to me." She could hear a soft thump, and when she lifted her arms and raised her head, she found Hermione kneeling down at her level, face incredibly close. If anything, it only served to make her heart start racing, and she could feel her stomach jerk. What was she doing? "Hello."

"Hi?" Carina furrowed her brows as her eyes met the brown ones above her.

Hermione laughed again, and the breath that hit her face made the raven haired girl tense. "I'm sorry, it was just...it was funny, what happened." Her smile softened. "Thank you."

"No problem?" Carina's brows drew together even more, for she could not for the life of her figure out why the other girl was on the floor with her, and definitely not this close, not until…

...lips pressed to her cheek, and gray eyes widened in shock. Without meaning to, Carina lifted her entire front half off the floor and propped herself up on her elbow, reaching up to feel her cheek, which was burning. Hermione was watching her intently.

Carina sincerely hoped that Harry could not see them on the floor or that he had fallen asleep, because that would only serve to heighten her level of embarrassment, and this was bad enough. Even worse, she had liked it, and if he ever told Ron Weasley….well, a duel would surely take place.

"I'm sorry, was that too much? I thought it would be alright since you did the same to me at Christmas, and—"

"—no, it's fine," Carina cut off Hermione's hurried apology and forced her tone to stay even as she slowly put her arm down. "Just...took me by surprise."

"Oh, alright." The brunette tilted her head and watched as the other girl lowered herself back down and rolled onto her back, crossing her arms behind her head. "Carina...I need to talk to you."

"About?" Carina made herself comfortable and turned her eyes to her friend.

"Ron." Just the name itself struck Carina in the heart, and she instantly knew what this conversation would be about. But, never one to deny Hermione Granger anything, she simply nodded and listened. "I just...I miss him. Oh, I'm very angry and I want to curse him into the next century, but...I miss him."

"That's…" The younger witch struggled to word this without insulting the boy. "Normal, to miss someone you care for. And you've got every right to be angry with him."

Hermione sighed. "But that's not it. I don't miss him as much, not like I did before. I know feelings tend to dull over some time, but three days without Ron I was a wreck, but…" She frowned. "But three days without you, I was a vegetable. I was numb. Why do you think that is?"

"I…" Carina was at a loss for words and swallowed. "I don't know. Perhaps we're closer?"

She very well knew the reason why she would feel numb without Hermione, and she already had a missing chunk of her wandering around Hogwarts somewhere in the form of Luna Lovegood; but this, this was different. Two different witches with two different sorts of feelings aimed their way.

"I suppose." The brunette suddenly twisted herself around and onto her back, where she lay her head on Carina's stomach. They lay there for a long few minutes in silence, and Carina could feel her heart finally began to slow as she closed her eyes.

~~~xxx~~~

Harry Potter held the locket down on a rock and stared up at Ron Weasley, who was clutching the sword of Gryffindor, and commanded, "Stab."

Ron raised the sword in his shaking hands. The point dangled over the eyes in the locket, dark and handsome as Tom Riddle's had once been, and Harry gripped the locket tightly, already imagining blood pouring from the thing, hearing the screech of pain….

It did not come. Instead, there came a strange voice.

"I have seen your heart, and it is mine," the voice hissed, and he realized that it was coming from the locket.

"Don't listen! Stab it!"

"I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible..."

"Stab!" His shout echoed through the forest and the sword point trembled; Ron gazed down into Riddle's eyes.

"Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter... Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers another... Second best, always, eternally overshadowed..."

"Ron, stab it now!" Harry found himself shouting again. He could feel the locket quivering in the grip and was scared of what may happen if it were not destroyed soon. Ron raised the sword even higher, and the eyes of the locket flashed.

Out of the locket's two windows, out of the eyes, there formed two hideous bubbles, the heads of Carina and Hermione.

Ron yelped in shock and backed away as the figures blossomed out of the locket, first chests, then waists, then legs, until they stood in the locket, side by side, hovering over Ron and Harry, who had snatched his hand away from the locket as it suddenly gave him a searing pain.

"Ron!" he shouted, but the Riddle-Carina was now speaking with Voldemort's voice and Ron was gazing, mesmerized, into its face. He could not for the life of him figure out why it was Carina and Hermione, out of everyone, that had bloomed from the locket.

"Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence...we didn't need you, we never needed you…"

"Never!" echoed the Riddle-Hermione, who was more beautiful and yet more terrible than the real Hermione: She swayed, cackling, before Ron, who looked horrified, yet as though he were hypnotized, the sword hanging pointlessly at his side. "Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Carina Black and Harry Potter? What have you ever done, compared with the Chosen One and heir to the House of Black? What are you, compared with them?"

Frantically, Harry found himself shouting again, desperate to be rid of these monsters. Ron did not move. His eyes were wide, and the Riddle-Carina and the Riddle-Hermione were reflected in them, their hair swirling like flames, their eyes shining red, their voices lifted in an evil duet.

"Your mother confessed," Riddle-Carina growled, while Riddle-Hermione jeered, "that she would have preferred him as a son, traded you...Hermione has been better off without you, Ron Weasley. She is mine now..."

"Who wouldn't prefer him, what woman would take you over either? Carina is an amazing witch, nothing like you...you are nothing…" Riddle-Hermione stretched like a snake and entwined herself around Riddle-Carina, wrapping her in a close embrace; their lips met.

In his panic, Harry did not dwell on that bit just now as his best friend's face filled with anguish and he raised the sword high, arms shaking. "Kill it!"

Ron looked toward him, and Harry thought he saw a flash of scarlet in his eyes.

The sword came down. Harry threw himself out of the way, and there as a clang of metal and a long, drawn-out scream. He whirled around, slipping in the snow, wand held ready to defend himself, but there was nothing to fight.

The monstrous versions of Carina and Hermione were gone: There was only Ron, standing there with the sword held slackly in his hand, looking down at the shattered remains of the locket on the flat rock.

The locket was destroyed, and the blue eyes before him were the same he had always known, though obviously watery.

Harry cleared his throat and picked up the remains of the locket. "What was that? Are you...do you think those two like each other?"

"Think?" said Ron bitterly. "I know. Not about Hermione, so much, but Carina. She's bloody well in love with her."

Carina, in love with Hermione? No, that could not be true. They were friends, that was absurd…

"I don't know, mate." Harry sighed and patted him on the back; he resolved to pay more attention. "You know, you saved my life, not to mention destroyed a horcrux."

"You make it sound a lot cooler than it is."

"Stuff like that always sounds cooler than it was. I've been trying to tell you for ages." They stared at each other for a moment, before stepping forward in unison and hugging. When they pulled away, he felt a bit lighter.

~~~xxx~~~

When he entered the tent, he did not expect to find Carina sprawled on the floor on her back, Hermione using her stomach as a pillow with a jar of blue flames flickering beside them; the tent was warm. It was a nice change from outside and in the pond.

"Guys," he tried. There was no response, so he did it again, louder this time, "Guys!" Gray eyes snapped open to regard him hazily, and Hermione stirred awake as well and bolted upright.

"What's wrong?" she asked him. "Harry, has something happened?"

He could not help but feel excited. "No, no, everything is fine. More than fine, actually. There's someone here."

"Someone's here? Who?"

It was Carina who saw Ron first, standing there with the sword in hand and dripping water all over; her teeth bared. Harry backed into a shadowy corner, slipped off Ron's rucksack, and attempted to blend in with the canvas.

Hermione slid out of her bunk and moved like a sleepwalker toward Ron, her eyes upon his pale face. She stopped right in front of him, lips slightly parted, eyes wide; the boy gave a weak hopeful smile and half raised his arms.

Hermione launched herself forward and started punching every inch of him that she could reach

"Ouch, ow, gerroff! What the...? Hermione—OW!"

"You–complete—arse–Ronald–Weasley!"

She punctuated every word with a blow: Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced. Harry could see Carina slowly stand, eyes never once leaving the scene, and see her entire body tense.

"You–crawl–back–here–after–weeks–and–weeks–oh, where's my wand?"

She looked as though she were about to wrestle it out of Harry's hands, and he reacted instinctively.

"Protego!"

The invisible shield erupted between Ron and Hermione. The force of it knocked her backward into Carina, who had surged forward to catch her before she could hit the floor; spitting hair out of her mouth, she attempted to advance some, but was stopped by firm arms around her waist.

"Hermione!" said Harry, shocked. "Calm down!"

"I will not calm down!" she screamed. Never before had he seen her lose control like this; she looked quite demented. "Give me back my wand! Give it back to me!"

"Hermione, will you please—"

"Don't you tell me what do, Harry Potter!" she screeched. "Don't you dare! Give it back now! And YOU!"

She was pointing at Ron in accusation. It was frightening, and Harry could not blame Ron for retreating several steps. Hermione pushed forward once more, if only ever so slightly, and Carina released her.

"I came running after you! I called you! I begged you to come back—"

"I know," Ron said, "Hermione, I'm sorry, I'm really—"

"Oh, you're sorry!"

She laughed a high-pitched, out-of-control sound; Ron looked at Harry for help, but Harry merely grimaced his helplessness.

"You came back after weeks—weeks—and you think it's all going to be all right if you just say sorry?"

"Well, what else can I say?" Ron shouted, and Harry was glad that Ron was fighting back. However, Carina was not and bared her teeth again, fists clenching by her sides.

"Oh, I don't know!" Hermione was yelling now, and her words were full of cutting sarcasm. "Rack your brains, Ron, that should only take a couple of seconds—"

"Hermione," interjected Harry, who thought this was a bit too much. "He just saved my—"

"I don't care!" she screamed. "I don't care what he's done! Weeks and weeks, we could have been dead for all he knew—"

"I knew you weren't dead!" bellowed Ron, drowning her voice for the first time, and approaching as close as he could with the Shield Charm between them. "Harry's all over the Prophet, all over the radio, they're looking for you everywhere, all these rumors and mental stories, I knew I'd hear straight off if you were dead, you don't know what it's been like for me!"

"What it's been like for you?"

Her voice was higher than he had ever heard it and it seemed that she had reached a level of indignation that rendered her temporarily speechless, and Ron seized his opportunity.

"I wanted to come back the minute I'd Disapparated, but I walked straight into a gang of Snatchers, Hermione, and I couldn't go anywhere!"

"A gang of what?" Harry frowned, but his eyes wandered when Hermione deposited herself in a chair, arms and legs crossed so tightly it seemed unlikely she would unravel them for years.

As Ron explained, the other boy noticed how Carina, who had been oddly silent, had perched herself on a table, waiting. But waiting for what?

~~~xxx~~~

Hermione was livid as she listened, not believing the things she was hearing. What he had gone through? What about what he put her through? What about all the nights she spent crying, Carina her only comfort, what about when they had nearly been caught by the Dark Lord himself?

Her eyes flickered to the other girl, who had been sitting on the table, and she knew that right then, she needed something, someone, to ground her. She gave a small jerk of her head, and it appeared that the raven haired witch understood and got to her feet, for which she was glad.

Carina perched herself on the arm, and the brunette uncrossed her arms to snatch up the other witch's hand in her own, entwining their fingers and gripping tightly. This was what she needed, not stupid Ronald Weasley bursting into their lives again with a ridiculous story and a simple apology. She was grateful that her friend had not yet even winced at the crushing pressure she was surely exhibiting, and instead squeezed her hand.

"What you've been through? Snatchers?" interrupted Carina suddenly, eyes flashing as she made to stand. Hermione could see that she, too, had been silently fuming and finally decided to speak; she pulled the other girl back down, only causing her to lean forward and give Hermione's hand a hard squeeze of her own. A laugh escaped Carina's lips—it was a harsh, cold one that she had often used when she came back from Azkaban, and it made Hermione's heart seize involuntarily. "We went to Godric's Hollow, encountered You-Know-Who's snake, and then You-Know-Bloody-Who showed up and nearly killed us, and you're complaining about missing fingernails?"

"What?" said Ron, brows furrowing in confusion.

The raven haired girl did not laugh again. Instead, her darkened gray eyes steeled as she gazed at him, standing again. Her hand stayed linked with Hermione's, and when she spoke this time, she sounded so serious that it caught everyone's attention quick.

"While you were off gallivanting who knows where, losing fingernails and encountering snatchers," she said quietly, severely. "I laid here every night for weeks, listening to Hermione cry over you. She said your name in her sleep, even, and I couldn't do anything more than what I was but I bloody well tried. We argued once, but you wouldn't know that. I stormed off just like you did and hid myself away, and when I finally came back, I apologized over and over again and earned my forgiveness, so don't expect for her to see you and just jump into your arms. Not after what you did."

I jumped into her arms, though. Hermione found herself frowning at the thought. I was so happy to see her alive and well that I just couldn't help myself, but I'm so angry with Ron right now that I can barely look at him. There's always a difference with these two—exact opposites in who they are and how I feel for them…

She stopped this train of thought when Carina continued to speak, all eyes focusing on her.

"If you're here to throw another tantrum, if you're here thinking you're going to be praised as some hero, or if you're here because you just got tired of being alone, leave. If you've got no intention of staying and running off again like the coward you are, then I will make you leave." She released Hermione's hand and stepped as close to the shield as she dared, so that her nose nearly brushed it. "And I mean it. There will be no more games, Ronald Weasley—this is your last warning. If you ever hurt her again..." Her hand brushed the shield, and it suddenly dissipated; Hermione watched, suddenly feeling the gravity of how serious this situation was as Carina strode forward, and Ron instinctively raised the sword. The raven haired girl did not flinch when it was held inches from her throat, and instead leaned even further forward, worrying the brunette. The blade pressed into her skin, but she did not seem to care. "I will kill you."

Harry had fallen silent, her wand hanging limply at his side as he stared, and Carina took a few steps back, back away from the sword.

"She's in love with you," said Ron suddenly, fist clenched tightly around the hilt of the sword. "Hermione, she's in love with you. If she wasn't she wouldn't even be here!"

He had to be lying. There was no way she could have been...but, no. There was no voiced denial, no shouted protest, no spells flying. Just pure silence and a stony glare directed at the redhead, who shifted from foot to foot but did not back down.

"Carina," Hermione found herself saying, quickly getting to her feet and grabbing the other girl by the hand. She drew in a breath, but did not ask any questions. Instead, she stated, "It's true, isn't it."

Carina Black glanced back at her, and the brunette felt a pang of relief when familiar fingers curled through her own.

She said only one word.

"Yes."