Chapter 15

Hermione sat outside of the tent keeping watch in the chilly, dark night. Any light that may have come from the moon and stars above her was almost completely blocked by the canopy of the trees above her head, and she had allowed the fire to die hours ago. The only light and warmth she had now came from the small jar of bluebell flames that she had conjured earlier.

It had been three days since Ron had left them, and she and Harry had finally gotten back into their normal routine of keeping watch at night. They had been lucky over the past few nights that the wards had held firm, and no one had happened upon their camp. They could not afford to continue to be so reckless, though; their mission was too important.

The past three days had been exhausting for both of them, however, and the thought of staying awake for half of the night and staring into the inky darkness surrounding their camp had been intolerable to both of them. Hermione had been so emotionally drained, like an old dish towel that had been wrung out a few too many times, and she had struggled to put on any kind of show of normalcy for Harry's sake. She knew it hadn't worked. She knew that he had spent the last several days worrying about her in addition to everything else that he spent every waking moment stressing over.

She rose unsteadily to her feet and made her way over to the tent as silently as she could manage considering the dead leaves that carpeted the forest floor, crunching underneath her shoes. Pulling back the flap of the tent, she poked her head inside to check on Harry. His deep, even breaths told her that he had finally succumbed to a much-needed sleep; his worries finally exhausting him to a point where he couldn't fight the need to sleep any longer. She let the tent flap fall closed again and made her way back to the small clearing and the jar of bluebell flames that sat awaiting her return.

Plopping back down onto the cold, hard ground with a barely audible "Oof", Hermione found herself mesmerized by the blue flames in front of her for a moment, trapped in her thoughts. Finally, she reached up with her left hand and grasped, not the gaudy golden Horcrux that hung from her neck like a lead weight, but the smaller silver, heart-shaped pendant. With her Vinewood wand held limply in her right hand, she whispered, "Libera Nuntium."

"Ron's left us. Harry and I are safe…" A pause, then, "I miss you, Draco."

She spoke softly so as to not disturb Harry, but even with her words coming out in a near whisper she could hear the vacant sound in her voice. She knew Draco would worry about her, and there was so much more that she wished to tell him, but she left it at that and severed the connection. She didn't have the energy to try to explain any further at the moment. She pulled her knees to her chest tightly, as if that might keep her from splintering, and rested her chin against her arms, staring blankly into the dark forest that surrounded their camp.

The next few weeks blurred together in a haze: each day almost exactly the same as the one before. She had reread nearly every relevant book she'd brought with her to try to find something, anything new that could help them destroy the Horcrux that they already had, not to mention the ones they would have to destroy in the future once they could find them, as well. She and Harry spent hours discussing over and over again where the others could be until she felt like she was reciting them in her sleep: Hufflepuff's Cup, something of Ravenclaw's, the snake…

They packed up camp and Apparated to a new place almost every day, never staying anywhere for longer than two nights at most, which they only did rarely. Hermione usually picked places that were fairly uninhabited and seldom visited to lower their risk of running into anyone, Death Eaters or Muggles. That was how they had ended up at their current campsite: a wide-open expanse of rocky hilltop that ended in an abrupt drop with the sea crashing far below.

Hermione sat perched at the cliff's edge, feet dangling over the side with Professor Dumbledore's copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard open in her lap. The wind was blowing gently, attempting to pull her hair free of the braid that she had secured it in earlier that day, and she relished in the feel and smell of the fresh, salty breeze that surrounded her. Looking down at the book in her lap she noticed, not for the first time, an odd marking scratched onto the page: a triangle enclosing a circle with a vertical line down the middle. Pulling out her well-used copy of Spellman's Syllabary, she began searching but after nearly an hour of coming through all of the runes listed within, she unhappily conceded defeat. If it was indeed a rune of some sort, it was not a very common one.

Just as she was getting ready to rise to her feet and head to the tent, intending to ask Harry if he had ever seen the odd marking before, he raced over to her, the golden snitch grasped tightly in his fist.

"Hermione!"

"Harry? Is everything okay?"

Her wand was in her hand without conscious thought, the fear that someone had found them always utmost in her mind. That fear was dispelled almost immediately when Harry dropped down beside her on the ground, his face shining with excitement.

"Look!"

Harry placed the small golden ball against his closed lips. When he pulled it away, he held it up so that they could both see it, and she gasped as she saw the words that had appeared in an elegant, sloping script.

I open at the close.

"I open at the close…" she read aloud. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Harry said, seemingly disappointed. "I thought you might, actually…"

"Well…I don't know what it means… but I think I've found something too," she said, angling her book so that it rested half of her lap and half on Harry's. She pointed to the symbol drawn onto the page. "What do you think that is, Harry? I don't think it's a rune; at least, I can't find it in any of my runes books."

Harry looked intently at the page, concentration furrowing his brow, before speaking.

"I don't know, 'Mi, but Luna's father was wearing a necklace at Bill and Fleur's wedding, and the pendant had that symbol on it. I'd bet that he could tell us."

Hermione stared a moment longer at the symbol, thinking about what Harry had just told her before she realized that he was staring at her intently.

"What's the matter, Harry?" she asked cautiously. She had known Harry long enough to know when he was bracing himself to tell her something that he thought she wouldn't like.

"Well… I've been thinking, and… I'd like to go to Godric's Hollow."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said sadly. She could tell that Harry was eager for her to agree and knew that thoughts of seeing the place where his parents for the first time in his life were driving him to make this decision. She also knew the perils that would inevitably follow.

"I just think," he began, rushing to get the words out before she could fully veto the idea, "that maybe Dumbledore could have left the Sword there for me. We both have a connection to that place, after all."

"Yes, you do. So does You-Know-Who, which is exactly why we can't go there. I'm sorry, Harry, but I think it could be a trap. He probably has people stationed there, just watching and waiting for you to show up. It isn't safe."

Harry nodded sadly and Hermione reached out to take his hand in hers, resting her head on a shoulder for a moment and staring out at the vast expanse of water and sky in front of her as they took comfort in one another's presence, each lost in their own thoughts. Hermione knew Harry was thinking of his parents, and probably of Ginny, too. Hermione, as she so often did, thought of Draco. She found herself hoping with every fiber of her being that he was safe in the viper's nest.

Song Inspiration: The Lonely – Christina Perry

We haven't heard from Draco in a while... Hopefully our boy is doing okay!

sbz