Harry was standing by the sink, cleaning up after their dinner. Outside in the living room, the television was on. The perverted BBC was extolling the sentence of death by hanging handed out to a group of secondary-aged children for allegedly making jokes about Regent Voldemort. Harry ought to feel disgusted, but that was by far not the most unpleasant thing he had heard on the news in recent years.

Hermione sat at the kitchen table, her head lying on her arms. Her face was sickly pale, as it had often been for much of the last four-or-so years. Harry had long since given up on any lingering hope that he could get her mind off the horrors of the present, for he could not practice what he had tried to preach, either.

'How are you?' he asked softly, concerned that she looked even weaker than usual.

'Tired. The afternoon training was hard.'

Harry sighed. The standard justification of 'the more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in battle' was but a joke these days. For both knew that they had as much chance of singlehandedly carrying the uprising against Voldemort as the Chudley Cannons had of winning the European Quidditch Champions League Cup. Nowadays, they only trained for something to do, something to keep them moving.

'Do you want to get some sleep?' Harry asked.

'No. Not yet, anyway. We've never been able to sleep without a good shag first.'

'We don't have to – '

'I want to. I need to. And you know you need it, too,' Hermione cut him off, 'It's the one bloody thing that we can do that's not all darkness and horror and war.'

Harry could not find any arguments to that. As much as he wanted Hermione to rest, he could not deny her the one and best respite they had from the constant fear.

'Want to get on it now, then? So you can go to sleep earlier?'

Hermione nodded weakly.

Harry walked over to her and pulled her to her feet. He placed a chaste kiss on her lips before carrying her to the bedroom. That was not an act of passion, it was an act of need, for Hermione was weak, and he did not want her to exert herself.

(Lemon scene,technically atleast)

Hermione threw off her top immediately and stripped off her trousers. She laid down on the bed. Her movements were lethargic.

'Why don't you just lie there and relax?' Harry suggested with the hint of a grin, 'I'll do all the moving.'

'Always so bloody noble,' she teased weakly, smiling.

Harry straddled her and penetrated her almost immediately. There was no strength for passionate lovemaking most days. They could show their affection and love in other ways – most of all just by being there, alive, for one another. Sex's only purpose had been relaxation and escape for years now.

Harry thrust repeatedly while Hermione moaned softly and tiredly beneath him. It was taking a little more effort tonight than usual to bring her to climax, but Harry enjoyed the hard work, knowing that he was doing it for her sake.

Hermione shook a little as she reached her orgasm. Harry followed her a few seconds later. Totally spent, he collapsed on top of her.

(Lemon End)

'I love you so much,' Harry whispered into her ear, 'I will follow you wherever you go.'

Both of the young adults knew what he was implying. There was no point in living if the other died. They were each other's whole world, their only world. It was better to follow the other to the grave than to go it alone in the horrors of society under Voldemort.

'I love you more,' Hermione replied, 'And I'll never leave you on your own.'

Harry rolled off his wife and cuddled her in his arms. She was the only thing that mattered in the world. And that was not an exaggeration.

Less than six years ago, they were heroes, living in the afterglow of what was the greatest victory in wizarding history. And now, they were simply a beaten man and a defeated woman, barely out of their teens, doing everything they could to survive just another day. Not to survive for themselves, but for the other's sake.

And they would live the rest of their short lives this way, for there was no realistic way out now.

The doorbell rang.

Harry and Hermione jumped up, pulled on their clothes quickly, and grabbed a wand off the bedside table. Harry noticed he was holding Hermione's. It did not matter. For years now, they had been using each other's wands and it had always felt no different from their own. Harry walked up to the door and opened it a chink, pointing Hermione's wand through the crack. Behind him, Hermione covered him with the Elder Wand.

'Harry?' asked a scared voice.

'Identify yourself,' Harry ordered gruffly.

'Ritchie Coote,' the voice answered, 'Beater for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team in your sixth year along with Jimmy Peakes. I flew on a Cleansweep Seven. The Chasers that year were Katie Bell, Ginny Weasley, and Demelza Robins. You are Harry Potter and your wife is Hermione Granger.'

Satisfied, Harry opened the door wider. 'What is it, Coote?' he asked quietly.

'May I come in?'

'Give me your wand when you enter,' Harry replied.

Coote complied with the order and handed Harry his wand. 'Ten inches, poplar, unicorn hair,' he said.

Harry nodded. That matched the description of Coote's wand that he had given him years ago.

Harry bade Coote to sit down on an armchair while he took the loveseat. Hermione walked over to Harry and plopped down next to him, leaning on him a little.

'What business do you have here, Coote?' she asked.

He took a deep breath. 'When was the last time you saw Ron?'

'Ron Weasley?' Harry asked, surprised.

'Yes. Ron Weasley.'

Hermione thought about it for a moment. 'It must have been around four years already. Why?'

'I've gotten word that he'd turned up again, in Northern Ireland, of all places,' Coote dropped the bombshell.

Harry gaped. 'How do you know?'

'I heard a couple of SES thugs talking about it when I was hiding in the attic of a shop,' he explained, 'Something about how he's in Belfast, and how they're looking for a way to use him to "get to you".'

'Are you saying they're going to do something horrible to him?' Hermione gasped, shocked.

Coote shrugged sadly. 'I have no information. What I just told you is all I know. When I heard, I looked everywhere for you two. I thought you might want to know.'

'And do you know anything about how…how he's been doing?' Harry pressed, 'If he's healthy? If he's okay?'

Coote shook his head. 'I don't know,' he admitted, 'I only came to tell you what I know, which is very little. I can't stay here long.'

He rose and walked to the door. As Harry handed his wand back to him, he turned around and looked Harry and Hermione in the eyes.

'You know those of us who still survive have faith in the two of you, right?'

Harry felt touched by this simple statement of solidarity. He could feel tears coming to his eyes. But he did not know what to say. He could not bring himself to show him reality and destroy his blind hope. The blind hope that kept him and all the rest of them going.

'Thank you,' he choked out. 'It means a lot to us.'

Coote nodded curtly, threw the hood of his travelling cloak over his head, and exited the flat, closing the door behind him.

Harry turned to Hermione. He could see tears in her eyes, too.

'Ron's alive,' she whimpered, 'I feared the worst. I never knew anything…'

Harry gathered her in his arms. 'It's okay, love. He's alive. That's more than we could've asked for.'

Hermione nodded into his chest. 'Will we be able to get in contact with him?'

'I hope. But I hope that he'll only contact us if he's safe.'

'Ron's not stupid, Hermione,' he assured her, 'He'll know how to stay alive. He's done it for four years, after all.'

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. 'Bed?' she asked.

'Sleep or sex?'

'Sleep. I'm so tired.'

Harry nodded and began to lead her to the bedroom. Just then, a yell and a bang issued from somewhere outside on the street. Abandoning everything else, Harry and Hermione both rushed to the window.

Down the street, a cloaked man that must have been Coote was facing down two SES brutes dressed in dark green robes. Curses were flying everywhere.

Coote may have been outnumbered, but his skill outstripped that of the pathetic thugs. His well-aimed Blasting Curse tore one of the robed figures apart while the other's legs were blown from his body and his entrails flew everywhere.

Satisfied, Coote turned around and began to walk away, assuming that both were dead.

And then the mortally wounded thug raised his wand.

Hermione gave a quiet but shrill shriek next to him. Harry wanted to scream in horror himself.

Coote, with his back turned, did not know what happened until it was too late.

'Avada Kedavra!' the thug bellowed with his dying breath.

The green jet of light hit the former Beater in the small of his back. He crumpled, not knowing what had hit him, and fell to the pavement, dead.

Three days after Coote's death, an owl arrived with a letter from Ron.

Harry and Hermione,

I don't know where you are, but I trust that my owl can find you. I'm alive and well, but I can't say too much in writing in case the letter gets intercepted.

Please send word as soon as you can. I missed you both.

Ron

The couple replied almost immediately.

R,

Do not use our full names. Securely dispose of all notes after reading.

We are alive. Can't say much more than that.

We heard that the Nibblers were after you. Stay safe.

HH

Ron's second letter came the following morning.

HH,

Haven't seen any Nibblers where I am, but I'm laying low as you advised. I like that name, by the way. Nibblers.

I have much to tell you, would we be able to meet in person at some point?

R

'Do you want to see him?' asked Harry as he read the note.

Hermione thought about it. 'I don't know if we can trust him. He completely disappeared for four years and we don't know where he went. He could've been compromised without him even knowing it. But he also promises information, and we really could use that…'

Harry nodded. 'He might know more about Voldemort's movements and plans than we do, holed up in here.'

'We can't invite him into our home, though. That's too risky.'

'I agree. We have to find some neutral location, away from both magical and muggle eyes.'

'We can't put our plans in a letter, our owl can get intercepted,' Hermione pointed out.

'We can send a Patronus message,' Harry suggested, 'That can't be traced or heard by anyone other than Ron, and we'll just tell him in the letter that he should expect one.'

With that in mind, they drafted their reply.

R,

Expect Prongs with time and place.

HH

The next day, Ron replied.

HH,

Received. See you at given T/P.

R

Hermione dropped the note almost immediately after she had read it and flung her arms around Harry.

'We're going to see him!' she squealed, 'And to think I'd always thought that he was gone…'

Harry rubbed her back consolingly. 'I did too,' he murmured into her ear, 'I haven't felt so…excited…for a long time.'

'I know how you feel,' Hermione replied into his chest. 'I wonder what he has to tell us.'

Harry shrugged. 'I don't know, but he wouldn't ask to meet us if it weren't important.'

Hermione pulled back from him. Harry saw that her face was streaked with tears, and miraculously, her face was not as pale as it usually was. It seemed that Ron being alive had breathed new hope and life into her.

And Harry could not help but feel the same. The trio was soon to be reunited once more, and he knew that together, they could take on anything.

'Are you sure this the place?' Hermione asked as they apparated. Harry threw his invisibility cloak off of them and stowed it in an inner pocket of his coat.

'This is the same clearing that I remember from all those years ago.'

They were standing in the clearing that they had come to seven years ago to escape the Death Eaters after the break-in at the Ministry. It was rather fitting, then, that they had returned here now.

'Ron should be here any minute now,' Hermione said quietly, glancing down at her watch. It was five in the morning.

Harry took a few rocks from the forest floor and transfigured them into a few armchairs while Hermione put up the protective enchantments that had used in the Horcrux quest long ago. All this gave Harry a strong sense of déjà vu.

A sharp crack let known Ron's appearance outside of their protective bubble. Harry and Hermione rushed out towards the sound to find their old friend.

Ron looked worse for wear. He was thinner than ever. His red hair was long and unkempt. His back was hunched, and like Harry and Hermione both, his face was ghostly white and gaunt from the years of exertion.

His face bore a curious expression. Harry could detect fear and pain but there was almost a sort of grim triumph in his countenance. He wondered what hardships he had overcome to be standing here today.

Ron looked at his two old friends and his face screwed up.

'Harry, Hermione,' he called hoarsely.

'Ron!' Hermione shrieked. She ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck.

Ron stiffened and his face grew even more pained. The years of separation had been hard on him. Harry could not imagine what he had to have gone through all on his own. He had it hard enough himself, and he had always had Hermione at his side.

'Harry,' Ron croaked, 'You're here.'

'As are you,' Harry found it in himself to reply.

The two men looked at each other in silence. Ron's eyes bore a hardened look, almost as if he had been tempered by pain, anguish, and struggle.

Ron shakily held up his wand. 'How and when did Fred and George get the funds they needed for their joke shop?'

'I gave them my Triwizard winnings at the end of the fourth year,' Harry replied.

Ron lowered his wand. 'I needed to make sure you were the real Harry Potter.'

'I understand,' assured Harry. He walked over to Ron and held out his hand. Ron shook it limply.

Hermione had returned to Harry's side. 'Should we sit down?'

Ron nodded and followed Harry and Hermione through the bubble formed by the protective enchantments to sit down on the transfigured armchairs in the centre of the clearing. Hermione conjured a kettle and made three small cups of dandelion tea.

'Sorry,' she apologized quietly, 'Supplies are tight. This is all we have.'

Ron nodded emotionlessly. ''S fine,' he muttered.

Harry thought that there was no need to ask 'How are you', as the answer would either be an obvious lie or be horrible to hear. He cut right to the chase instead.

'How did you find us?'

'I've been hiding around the country for years,' Ron began nervously, his voice quaking, 'And I never knew whether the two of you were alive or dead. Then I bumped into Ritchie Coote, and he told me that he knew you two were hiding in Northern Ireland, so I contacted you as soon as I could.'

'Coote was killed,' Hermione broke the news softly, 'An SES thug murdered him when his back was turned.'

'I'm sorry to hear,' Ron said flatly. There was a flash of something across his face that Harry did not quite like.

'You said you had things to tell us,' Harry pressed on bluntly. There would be time for emotional reunification later, but right now, they were out in the open, and the sooner they all returned to their safehouses, the better.

'It concerns the Dark Lord – '

'When did you start calling Riddle the Dark Lord?' Hermione interrupted. She and Harry never used that honorific. He was always 'Riddle' to them – nothing more than a person, a bastard son of rape.

'Wh-When I was h-hiding,' Ron answered sheepishly, 'I…I had to use the common language. To blend in, see?'

Harry nodded. 'Go on.'

'The Dark Lo…R-Riddle is planning something. Some major operation,' Ron told them, 'I…I heard it in a p-pub from a couple of loose-lipped SES officers – '

'The SES are just common thugs, Ron,' Harry interjected, 'They're not legitimate officers of the law in our eyes.'

Annoyance flashed across Ron's face, but he reigned himself in. 'Please just let me finish,' he requested. Harry nodded for him to continue.

'They're planning a sweep of the country for you,' he explained, caressing his left arm nervously, 'Every muggle and magical house. They're going to lure you out of hiding into the open.'

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look. If Ron's information was correct, they needed to head out of the country immediately. They could not fight against the full might of both muggle and magical Britain. Anywhere in Europe was a no-go zone. They needed to head to the Americas, Africa, Asia, or Australia. And they needed to get there fast.

'Is there anything else?'

If it were at all possible, Ron's face turned even more white. 'Y-Yes,' he stammered, 'Uh…the Ministry! They're rounding up mu-muggle-borns. And they're sending them to – '

'We know,' Hermione said firmly, 'We've known it for years, but we don't have the numbers anymore to do anything about it. We've run into our fair share of Snatchers ourselves, too.'

'Y-You have?'

'Yes,' Harry affirmed grimly, 'We've had to kill many of them, too.'

'You've killed?'

'We had to.'

'H-How many?'

'We stopped counting somewhere in the mid-thirties between the two of us.'

Ron's face was terrified and ashen as he gasped.

Harry shrugged. 'I don't regret killing them. It was either they die or Hermione or I die. The choice is easy.'

'I un-understand.'

Harry nodded. 'If that's all, we're going to go now,' he said as he rose and pulled Hermione to her feet, 'It's not safe to be out here for long. You should go, too.'

'No.'

Harry spun around. 'No?' he asked, curious.

'No. You can't leave.'

'Why not? Is there something else you need to tell us?'

Ron fidgeted on the armchair. 'You need to stay.'

'Ron, what the fuck are you thinking?' Hermione said shrilly, 'Do you want us to get caught?'

Ron said nothing.

'Are you trying to turn us in?' Harry asked, reproving himself immediately for suggesting that Ron was capable of such backstabbing.

But his self-reproach was not unwarranted. 'I need to,' Ron said in a small voice, raising his wand at the pair, 'Or…Or I die.'

'So you're willing to turn in your two oldest friends, who just happen to be the two people leading whatever resistance is left, just so they'll stave of killing you for what, a year?' Hermione snapped, shocked.

'Are we friends?' Ron asked with an unmistakable hint of venom in his voice.

'I bloody well thought we were,' Harry shot back, still disbelieving that Ron would even think of betraying them like that.

'I can't be so sure,' Ron spat, his voice hardening now, 'If you didn't realize, being friends with the two of you cost my entire family their lives!'

'Your family knew what they were getting in to!' Harry bellowed, 'What a way to repay their sacrifice, turning us in to save your own pathetic skin!'

'If I turn you in, they promised me I'd be able to see them again…'

'Ron! You know that no spell can awaken the dead!' Hermione pleaded, 'Surely you don't believe them!'

'Well, I have to hope, don't I? The Dark Lord's done extraordinary things. I'm sure if anyone can raise the dead, he can!'

'Yeah,' Harry agreed, 'And by turning Hermione and I in, you want to get the Dark Mark, then become his most faithful servant, in hopes that he'll perform some horrible necromancy and bring back your family?'

Ron rolled up his sleeve. There, on his left forearm, was the horrible black mark of the Death Eaters.

'It was the only way…I would've died. You don't know how it was like out there. I have to bring you to him. When I do, he'll reward me beyond my wildest dreams,' Ron whimpered, 'He'll reward me with my family…'

'And you don't think your family would be disgusted by what you've done? You don't think they'll disown you for – '

He was cut off as Ron pressed the tip of his wand to his Dark Mark. Harry's scar burned. Hermione threw her arms around him, supporting him, as pops of apparition around them signalled the arrival of the Death Eaters.

Hermione shifted behind him, so that they were now standing back-to-back, their wands raised. Around the clearing stood around twenty hooded Death Eaters. Leading them, Harry saw with a rush of revulsion, was none other than the Minister for Magic, Dolores Umbridge, whose toad-like face bore a wide, sickly smile.

'Well done, Weasley,' Umbridge simpered.

The traitor had knelt down at the pink toad's feet. 'Thank you, Minister. L-Long live the E-Emperor,' he stammered.

'You will be rewarded for your services, of course,' said Umbridge, 'Lucius!'

Ron turned to Lucius Malfoy. 'Lord Malfoy, the Dark Lord p-promised.'

Lucius Malfoy raised his wand at Ron. 'That he did,' he drawled. His sneer was reflected in his voice. 'You will be reunited with your blood traitor family now, Weasley. Avada Kedavra!'

And the green jet of light hit Ron right between the eyes. He fell over, dead. In a strange twist of poetic justice, the betrayer was himself betrayed.

'And now, our…guests,' Umbridge said sweetly, turning her amphibian face towards Harry and Hermione. 'The Dark Lord has orders for capturing the boy, of course, but the Mudblood girl…' Umbridge paused to sneer, 'What do you suggest, Lucius?'

'Madam Umbridge, my son, Draco, could get well-acquainted with that…thing,' Lucius replied silkily. 'What do you say, Draco?'

The shorter figure beside Lucius came forward. 'It could last a few weeks,' the hated voice of Draco Malfoy spoke, 'After that, I can dispose of what's left.'

'Very well,' Umbridge said, 'Draco, go forth and take what has been granted to you.'

Draco started forward towards the centre of the clearing. A rush of rage flowed through Harry. No one would hurt Hermione under his watch. Unconsciously, his hand moved towards his pocket and drew the Elder Wand, pointing it at Draco. Draco froze for a moment before going for his own wand. The moment of hesitation cost the Death Eater.

'Avada Kedavra!' Harry shouted the curse. He had never cast the Killing Curse before outside of his training sessions, but to his surprise, he was successful in his first try. The green jet of light issued from the Elder Wand and hit the younger Malfoy right in the chest. He fell over, dead.

With barely a second's hesitation, the Elder Wand fell again, casting the same curse. This time, it was Lucius who was struck, and he, like his son, fell, dead before he had even hit the ground.

Umbridge, too, had raised his wand to Harry's left, pointing it at him. 'Cru-'

'Avada Kedavra!' Hermione incanted from behind him. Her Killing Curse hit Umbridge right in the groin, ending her life instantly.

Only after three of their own number had fallen did the rest of the Death Eaters begin drawing their wands. Curses began flying in all directions. Harry held Hermione's left hand tightly behind him. He had a hard time aiming at any single Death Eater through the debris. Landing a spell like the Killing Curse now was impossible.

'Confringo!' he heard Hermione shout, pointing her wand in the general area where some spells were coming from. A faraway scream of pain told Harry that her spell had hit.

'Sectumsempra!' Harry yelled, waving the Elder Wand in a wide arc. More screams.

Seconds turned into minutes; minutes turned into hours as the battled. Harry was thankful for their fierce training, for it was the only thing that was keeping them alive against such overwhelming odds.

Through the haze, a Death Eater emerged feet in front of Harry. He raised his wand and began a slashing motion. Faintly, it registered in Harry's brain that it was Dolohov. Without even thinking, Harry had stuck the Elder Wand between his eyes and cast the Killing Curse. Hermione's almost-killer at the Department of Mysteries fell to the ground as he was hit by the fatal spell.

Hermione had only just cast a second Killing Curse when she suddenly screamed. Harry felt her weight tugging on his left arm. He turned around to look at her.

She was lying on the ground. Her chest and abdomen were split open, and blood was pouring out of the wound. Her face was quickly turning paper white as her blood left her body.

Forgetting all danger, Harry knelt down beside his wife. He tried in vain to close the wound. Even with his advanced knowledge of healing spells, it was impossible to heal a Dark Magic-caused injury of this magnitude using just a wand – even the Elder Wand.

'Harry,' she gasped weakly, 'You can't save me. F-Fight for your own life…not mine…'

'I don't care!' Harry yelled, 'I told you years ago. I'd rather die than live without you. I'll follow you wherever you – '

'That you will,' a cackling voice sounded from behind him. Suddenly, Harry felt his back burst open. It was pain beyond anything he could possibly imagine. It was so much pain that his brain simply stopped registering it after several seconds. He collapsed on the leaf-strewn ground, half on top of Hermione, still clutching the Elder Wand in his hand.

Harry's free hand sought Hermione's and grasped it. 'Are you still here?'

Hermione's soft gasp was answer enough.

'I'll follow you to the end. I promised you that,' Harry whispered. Just speaking was taking all his effort.

'I love you, Harry,' she breathed with her little remaining strength.

'I love you, too, Hermione.'

And Hermione's laboured breathing stopped.

Images flashed through Harry's mind. Their wedding. Their first night together. Their first kiss. Their embrace after Voldemort's second defeat. The night they travelled together to his mother and father's graves.

And Harry felt himself slipping away, but the images continued. The look on her face as she charged into the room in his fifth year to pull him out of his sulking. The kiss on the cheek at King's Cross at the end of his fourth. Her at the Yule Ball in her gorgeous blue dress.

The final memory he recalled was how she had stayed up all night the day before the First Task so that he could master the Summoning Charm.

As Harry's entire world began to go dark, he felt the Elder Wand begin to heat up in his hand. Inside his coat, he vaguely felt the Cloak of Invisibility grow warm, too. He held on tighter to Hermione's lifeless hand. Something was happening.

And then he knew – he did not know how, but he was sure of it – that the Resurrection Stone was lying in the pocket of his jeans. It, too, was growing warm. Somehow, the two brothers had summoned the third to the rightful Master of Death.

And just as Harry took his last gasping, painful breath, the sky exploded.