1997
Forest of Dean

The tent was dark, and Hermione trembled trying to be quiet. She had her fist shoved against her mouth to try to muffle the sounds of her crying so she wouldn't disturb Harry. Her mind kept shoving images of him bleeding, the Horcrux burning into his chest. Trying to keep her hand still as she cut it off him. A whimper escaped her. With Ron missing, everything felt so much more real and dangerous, with no stupid squabbles about food or chores to distract from the unrelenting burden of the hunt. She could have lost Harry. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push away the thoughts, trying to calm down. The quiet night seemed to emphasize all the little sounds she made, each rough inhale contrasting with the soft rustling of the trees outside.

She heard Harry shifting but didn't open her eyes to look, too ashamed of her weakness to meet his eyes. He climbed in beside her wordlessly, shifting her so they both fit in the narrow bunk, then he pulled her back against his chest and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

The pressure of his arms felt so good. Comforting on multiple levels. He was holding her together, keeping her from shattering into little pieces from the trauma of her own emotions. Then the fact he was strong enough to hold her so tightly must mean he was truly on the mend. Her breathing slowed and the pressure on her chest eased as her anxiety lowered.

"Thank you."

Harry's thumb rubbed lightly against her arm in acknowledgment, but he didn't speak.

"Do you think he's going to come back?" That she referred to Ron went unsaid.

"I don't know Hermione."

She sucked in a deep breath, letting the air out slowly. "Harry?"

"Hmm?"

She twisted and his arms released her and she turned to face him in the dim light of the tent, she could barely make out his features. It made it easier to ask.

"If something happens to me…"

"Nothing's going to happen to you." Harry's voice was fierce, his arms came around her again, his hands splayed on her back pushing her closer to him. "I promise, we're going to win."

Hermione gave a faint smile. "Yeah, we're going to win. But…"

His mouth opened.

"Harry let me finish."

He closed his mouth with a click. She reached out to stroke his hair back from his face. "I always knew—I always—I just-stupidly—of course—" She cut herself off trying to gather her thoughts into some kind of coherency.

She laid her hand against his chest, over the still healing scar in the shape of the locket. "I was so frightened when I realized I could have lost you today. It's just me and you Harry and—I know that—um—that we're just friends. But maybe—"

"My best friend," Harry whispered to her, his green eyes unreadable in the dark.

Her throat felt tight but she squeezed the words out anyway. "I-I-I'm a virgin, Harry. I've never been with anyone. I know it's stupid, and I —I don't want to die without knowing what it's like-and, please. I want to be with you." She scooted even closer to the narrow bed. "Please make love to me."

Her hand shook a little as she raised it to cup his cheek, and pressed her lips softly against his.

"Hermione," Harry whispered against her mouth.

"Please, Harry?"

Harry gave a low groan, his hands stroking her back up and down. "You're making this choice for all the wrong reasons, Hermione. You're scared." He squeezed her. "You don't really want to do this with me. You and Ron—"

"I know you find me attractive." She whispered cutting him off, staring up at his shadowed face. They had lived alone for weeks in the tent, and Hermione had seen the side glances Harry had given her. Even if he didn't feel anything more than friendship— or love her romantically— he was attracted to her. Being alone without Ron had caused a strange sort of intimacy to develop between the two of them.

"Of course I do, I'm not blind," Harry admitted. "But I'm not going to help you do something you're going to regret."

Determination filled her, and Hermione pushed Harry over and straddled him before reaching over to grab her wand, pointing it at her belly and casting a quick contraceptive charm. She put her wand down and then pulled off her shirt, leaning back down to kiss him. "You're my best friend. I love you. I would never regret my first time being with you."

Harry caught her hands as they went to slide under his shirt. "Please, Harry."

Harry's hands tightened on hers briefly and she thought for a moment he was going to shove her off. But Harry sat up, shifting under him. He buried his hands in her hair and kissed her passionately.

The feel of his tongue sliding into her mouth was electric, and her breath caught. A niggle of jealousy twinged through her at the expertise of his kiss. All her other kisses had been soft and awkward, fumbling hands and red cheeks. But Harry kissed her like he was making love to her mouth. His tongue slid caressingly along her own and explored her leisurely.

His arms braced around her, his shoulders rising above her filling her vision. Harry broke the kiss slowly, his mouth moving to her ear, "Please don't regret this Hermione, I don't think I could handle it."

"I won't," Hermione promised reaching for him eagerly.

She pulled on his shirt while he tried to unhook her bra, both of them getting tangled in each other's clothes. Goosebumps raced over her skin at each brush of his hands against her body. His chest under her hands was lean and muscular, she could feel the slight edge of his ribs as he flexed above her, his breath harsh.

Hermione squirmed against him, not quite able to see everything in the dark but her mind supplied her with perfect clarity the lines of his chest. She had seen him so many times without a shirt, brief glances before she managed to avert her eyes. Harry hadn't been for her. He shifted and his legs moved against hers urging them open. She sucked in a sharp breath. He hadn't been for her but—now—now he was.

Harry settled between her thighs and Hermione felt so exposed and awkward. Harry seemed larger now, different, pressed so closely against her. Of course, she knew Harry was bigger than her, but that knowledge was different when she could feel the skin of his hips against her inner thighs. His cock pressed hard against her, hot and too thick for the idea that he would soon be inside her.

Hermione squeezed his hips with her thighs, her hands tense on his shoulders. This was happening, she was really doing this. Oh god, she was really doing this with Harry. The bright green of his eyes flashed in her memory and her heart clenched. Harry.

Harry seemed content to take his time, kissing her slowly while keeping her legs wrapped around his waist, moving her arms to lay them above her head, a little pressure letting her know he wanted her to keep them there.

His hands wandered slowly down her, lightly caressing her curves.

"You're so beautiful, Hermione." His voice came out in a husky whisper when he broke the kiss, starting to drag his mouth lower on her skin, tasting her.

Hermione squirmed against him at the feel of his hot mouth moving along the sensitive skin of her neck. She flexed her legs, the action pushing her pussy closer to his cock. He gave a grunt, his hand going down to squeeze her hip. "Don't move like that."

"Why?"

"Because I don't have enough control to handle it, and this will be over before it's begun."

Oh. Well, that was a good reason. She struggled to relax back as he continued his meandering path down her body, licking and nibbling at her skin.

Harry cupped her breasts, his hands squeezing them firmly, and his mouth lowered onto her nipple. His tongue rubbed against her hard nipple, and she could feel the edge of his teeth as he started to suck.

She made a small desperate noise that would have embarrassed her if he had been in her right mind, but all she could think about was his hot mouth as he suckled her breast. She couldn't control her squirming under him, thrusting out her chest to give him better access.

He released her wet nipple with a low pop of sound, his hand going lower to her pussy. Tentatively parting her folds with his fingers and sliding along her clit. She blushed a little at the thought he must be able to feel how wet she was for him. "I don't know how much this will hurt you, you have to tell me okay?"

Hermione nodded quickly keen on him continuing. "Yes, I'll tell. I promise."

Harry slid his finger into her slowly, firmly, not stopping until she felt his hand pressed up against her. She grunted and gasped at the intrusion, a part of her mind freaking out that Harry was on top of her. Between her legs, doing this to her. Harry was making love to her.

When he drew his finger back and then thrust two in, her arms wrapped around his neck. She pushed her lips against his, her tongue tracing his lips and he opened his mouth for her. Hermione kissed him desperately, moving her tongue against his, as his fingers slid in and out of her. The wet sounds of the kiss and his fingers sliding in her blended erotically.

Harry withdrew them slowly, sliding his wet fingers along her clit, causing her to buck up her hips wanting more. Harry pushed his hands in her hair again, holding her still, and she felt him move his hips against her, sliding until his cock dipped into her entrance.

Keeping his face close to hers, he pushed inside her slowly, she felt it when he hit the barrier of her virginity. It felt like he just pushed through, spreading her open, not stopping until he was deep inside her. Her thighs trembled at the sting as she kept them tight around his waist.

They were both panting at the sensation. "Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?"

She shook her head desperately, it hurt, but she wanted him to finish. She wanted to feel him make love to her.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," Harry whispered as he withdrew slowly until he was half inside her, then pushed just as slowly back in.

Hermione whimpered and twisted, her fingernails digging into his shoulders. It hurt each time he sank into her, but there was this zing of warm pleasure building. Harry fucked her agonizingly slowly, his cock withdrawing and sliding in so that she felt every ridge. She was sweating as she clutched at him, her legs clamped tightly at his hips as Harry penetrated her over and over.

Hermione felt so full with him buried deep inside her, she couldn't catch her breath. Her nipples brushed against his chest with each thrust, their skin meeting with a low slap of sound that seemed magnified. Every sensation seemed to build on each other, pushing her higher and higher — winding her up until she was going to burst.

Harry's muscles were rigid with his control, and she could feel the dampness of his skin as their bodies moved against each other, the sweat causing the slap of their skin to sound even louder. She wanted to keep him inside her, and with that thought, she clenched her muscles. He jerked against her, moaning, and lost his careful rhythm.

Oh. Hermione smiled slyly in the dark. Harry liked that. She concentrated on timing squeezing her pussy on his cock when he was deep inside her. It emphasized the sensation of the slow pull of his cock out of her.

"Hermione…" His voice came out hoarse and pleading. Then he reached down and started rubbing her clit as he thrust into her faster. Pleasure rushed at her in a blinding flash and she gave a short scream; it was like stars exploded behind her eyes. She heard Harry give a guttural moan against her neck as she spasmed against him, her ankles locking tight around his back. His hips thrust hard against hers as he came inside her, the warmth of his cum driving her pleasure even higher.

They panted against each other for a long moment, before Harry moved to the side, reaching for his wand to cast cleaning charms on the both of them.

"Are you in any pain?"

Hermione was quite sore now that she wasn't caught up in the pleasure, but she weirdly reveled in it. Every twinge was another reminder that Harry had made love to her. "No, I'm fine."

Harry laid down behind her again, wrapping his arms around her protectively.

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too, Harry."

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Harry woke up early, Hermione curled against him in a thin nightshirt she had pulled over after making love to him. He remained still, watching her, the slow rise and fall of her chest, the way her hands were bunched against his chest as if she was trying to hide underneath him.

He was already hard and poking her, and he tried to pull back a little so he didn't wake her. Harry didn't want her to think he just expected it because she slept with him last night. He remembered the determination in her voice as she had straddled him, pulling off her shirt, and had to suppress a groan.

It was like a heated fantasy come true to have her like that —even just in friendship—although maybe—maybe he could persuade her for more? Ron's face floated through his mind but he determinedly pushed away any guilt he had left. Probably because of the bloody Horcrux, but still—he had left them. One didn't abandon their girlfriend or almost girlfriend alone in the woods with another bloke –even if that bloke was your best mate. Obviously, Ron didn't care as much as Harry had thought for Hermione—maybe despite his complaints, someone like Lavender was more his type.

Hermione twisted on the bed, the nightshirt twisting with her, pulling taut against her chest. Harry swallowed hard, looking at her clearly outlined nipples. He clenched his fist to prevent himself from reaching for her, waking her up, and finding out exactly how sore she was after last night.

Moving slowly, Harry slipped from the bed, looking down at her for a minute before going to the bathroom to get dressed and have a bloody wank. He took a long time but when he emerged Hermione was still asleep. Deciding that the past few days had probably taken a toll on her, Harry decided against waking her up. He grabbed Hermione's wand and decided to go for a walk.

Emerging into the chill air, Harry saw that it was still dark out, the vast forest seeming to echo with tiny movements of the creatures that lived within it. Harry stared into the darkness for a moment, before consciously setting aside the worry of what may be prowling beyond his sight and instead checked the wards around the tent.

As he circled the edge of the wards he couldn't throw off the feeling that something was out there and he turned to stare into the forest again, his ears straining to catch any suspicious noise. He was straining so hard staring into the darkness that he thought he imagined it at first, the flash of silver light in the distance. He took a step forward and hesitated to look back to where Hermione still slept.

Hermione needed her rest, and he shouldn't wake her up for something that was probably a figment of his imagination. He would just go a short distance to see, then come back. With that decided Harry stepped further into the forest, trying to make out the silver light.

Whatever was making the light was moving soundlessly. All he could he was the crunch of his own footsteps and the forest sounds. Harry could almost see it, he raise Hermione's wand, ready for whatever it may be. The silver light suddenly became brighter, and he squinted as it passed between some oak trees.

It was a silver-white doe, moon bright and dazzling, slowly picking her way over the ground, still silent, and leaving no hoof prints in the fine powdering of snow. It looked back at him for a moment, her beautiful head with its wide, long-lashed eyes held high, before turning and continuing away.

It was so familiar looking, that doe, and he wrestled with the impulse to shout for Hermione. Harry looked back briefly. He couldn't see the tent. How far had he wandered unknowingly? He looked towards the doe and found it further away from him.

"Wait!" Harry called out to it. It had to be some sort of clue. Some sort of message. He should have woken Hermione up, now he was stuck with risking losing the clue. He had to go.

Harry ran after the silver doe, crashing through the forest, his footsteps thudding. He could see her just up ahead, it looked like she might have stopped. He opened his mouth to call out again when suddenly the light vanished and he was in darkness.

Bloody hell.

"Lumos!" He whispered and Hermione's wand tip ignited.

He searched around him carefully, trying to find the explanation for the doe. Was there someone out amongst the trees watching him? Would someone attack him? Harry held the wand higher, but there was nothing, just the low whistle of the wind through the trees.

He walked a few paces in each direction trying to find some explanation when he realized he was on the edge of a frozen pool. Its black surface glittered as he moved the wand trying to get an idea of its size. As he looked down, he noticed that some glinted deep below the blackish-frozen waters.

It was a great silver cross.

Harry recognized that cross, he dropped to his knees at the edge of the pool and angled the wand so he could see the bottom of the pool with as much light as possible. Red glinted now, glittering rubies in the hilt of a sword… the sword of Gryffindor was here, lying at the bottom of the forest pool.

Harry pointed his wand at the sword. "Accio sword!"

It didn't move. He hadn't thought it would but it had still been worth a try. Bloody hell, he should have woken Hermione, but he couldn't risk leaving without the sword now. He stood and glanced back towards where the tent was again, before letting out a long sigh.

This was going to suck. He set his shoulders and, with cold fingers, started to remove his many layers of clothing. He arranged all his things in a neat pile before casting a quick cutting spell at the ice, the cracking sounded like a bullet in the silent forest. Then he stood up, took a deep breath, and jumped in.

It was like getting stabbed with a thousand needles at once all over his body. The cold water clutched at him and tried to freeze him in place. The water wasn't that deep and he could feel the sword beneath his feet, with a muttered curse he dove underneath the water.

Fully submerged, the agony increased, the cold strangely enough transforming almost into a burning sensation as if a fire was now licking across his skin. His fingers curled around the hilt and he pulled it upwards. As he approached the water line something tightened around his neck, he thought it was water weeds or some type of vines at first even though he had brushed nothing when he first jumped in. When he tried to brush it away though he realized it was not a weed, it was the chain of the Horcrux tightening around his neck.

Harry kicked out wildly, trying to push himself back to the surface, but he was going sideways despite his best efforts. What would happen to Hermione if he didn't survive? She didn't even have a wand. His thoughts grew hazy and all he could think was that he had left her there. He was going to drown, and there was nothing he could bloody do about it, in this tiny stupid pool. Harry felt his lungs compress like arms had wrapped around him, squeezing out the last of his breath.

Harry came to choking and retching, colder than he had ever been in his life, face down in the snow. He could hear someone close coughing and staggering around. For a moment he thought it was Hermione, coming again just as she had when the snake attacked, but it didn't sound like her.

He could barely move, his body still felt frozen stiff, and rose a numb hand to his neck feeling the place where the locket had cut tightly into his flesh. It was gone, someone cut him free.

"Are you mental?"

The shock of that voice was like a jolt of electricity through his body. Harry rolled away, staggering to his feet. Ron. Fuck.

There before him stood Ron, fully dressed but drenched to the skin, his hair plastered to his face the sword of Gryffindor in one hand and the Horcrux dangling from its broken chain in the other.

"Why the hell didn't you take this thing off before you dived?" Ron panted, holding out the Horcrux which swung back and forth on its shorted chain.

Harry couldn't answer as he stared at him, too many thoughts filling his head. Struggling with the relief and gratitude at seeing Ron okay, but the sharp edge of anger and guilt considering what had just happened between Harry and Hermione last night.

Ron had saved his life, and Harry had slept with the girl Ron had crushed on since his third year. He stumbled back from him towards the pile of clothes he had left lying at the water's edge and began to pull them on.

"It was y — you?' Harry said at last, his teeth chattering, his voice weaker than usual due to his near-strangulation.

"Well, yeah,' said Ron, looking slightly confused. 'Y — you cast that doe?"

"What? No, of course not! My Patronus is a stag."

"Oh yeah. I thought it looked different. No antlers."

Harry pulled on a final sweater, stooped to pick up Hermione's wand, and faced Ron again.

"How come you're here?"

Ron paused, fumbling. "Well, I've — you know — I've come back. If —" He cleared his throat. "You know. You still want me."

The silence was heavy after he finished speaking, not just because of the weight of the guilt on Ron's face for storming out when they needed him. Harry couldn't help but picture Hermione as he'd left her, curled under the covers. The hesitant way she'd asked him if he thought Ron might return. And here Ron was, he had returned, and he had saved Harry's life.

Fuck.

Ron looked down at his hands. He seemed momentarily surprised to see the things he was holding. "Oh yeah," Ron said in a subdued voice, holding up the sword for Harry. "I got it out, that's why you jumped in right?"

"Yeah," said Harry. 'But I don't understand. How did you get here? How did you find us?"

"Long story,' said Ron. 'I've been looking for you for hours, it's a big forest, isn't it? And I was just thinking I'd have to kip under a tree and wait for morning when I saw that deer coming, and you following.'

"You didn't see anyone else?"

"No,' said Ron, pausing and looking down at the word. "How did the sword get in that pool?"

"Whoever cast the Patronus must have put it there.'

They both looked at the ornate silver sword, its rubied hilt glinting a little in the light from Hermione's wand.

"You reckon this is the real one?" asked Ron.

"One way to find out, isn't there?" said Harry.

The Horcrux was still swinging from Ron's hand. The locket was twitching slightly. Harry knew that the thing inside it was agitated again. It had sensed the sword's presence and tried to kill Harry rather than let him possess it. Now was not the time for long discussions; now was the moment to destroy the locket once and for all. Harry looked around, holding Hermione's wand high, and saw the place: a flattish rock lying in the shadow of a sycamore tree.

"Come here," he said, and he led the way, brushed snow from the rock's surface, and held out his hand for the Horcrux. When Ron offered the sword, however, Harry shook his head.

"No, you do it."

"Me?" said Ron, looking shocked. 'Why?"

Ron had hurt Hermione when he left, she had cried for days. Harry didn't want him back unless Ron could handle things because the fight wasn't going to get any easier. "It has to be you." Harry looked away from Ron's panicked gaze. "If you can't then…maybe you shouldn't come back."

Dumbledore had at least taught Harry something about certain kinds of magic, of the incalculable power of certain acts. Destroying the locket would bolster Ron, or failing to do so would drive him away completely. Harry purposely kept his thinking away from Hermione. He wasn't trying to drive Ron away because of her. He wasn't.

"I'm going to open it," said Harry, "and you stab it. Straight away, OK? Because whatever's in there will put up a fight. The bit of Riddle in the diary tried to kill me."

"How are you going to open it?" asked Ron. He looked terrified. "I'm going to ask it to open, using Parseltongue," said Harry. The answer came so readily to his lips that he thought that he had always known it, deep down: perhaps it had taken his recent encounter with Nagini to make him realize it. He looked at the serpentine 'S', inlaid with glittering green stones: it was easy to visualize it as a minuscule snake, curled up on the cold rock.

"No!' said Ron, 'no, don't open it! I'm serious!"

"Why not?" asked Harry. 'I'm going to open it and you're going to stab it —"

"I can't, Harry, I'm serious — you do it —"

"But why?"

"Because that thing's bad for me!" said Ron, backing away from the locket on the rock. 'I can't handle it! I'm not making excuses, Harry, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affected you and Hermione, it made me think stuff, stuff I was thinking anyway, but it made everything worse, I can't explain it, and then I'd take it off and I'd get my head on straight again, and then I'd have to put the effing thing back on — I can't do it, Harry!"

He had backed away, the sword dragging at his side, shaking his head.

"Get over here and stab this bloody Horcrux or sod off, Ron," said Harry.

The ultimatum seemed to act like a stimulant. Ron swallowed, then, still breathing hard through his long nose, moved back towards the rock.

"Tell me when," he croaked.

"On three,' said Harry, looking back down at the locket and narrowing his eyes, concentrating on the letter 'S', imagining a serpent, while the contents of the locket rattled like a trapped cockroach. It would have been easy to pity it, except that the cut around Harry's neck still burned.

"One …two …three…open."

The last word came as a hiss and a snarl and the golden doors of the locket swung wide with a little click.

Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and handsome as Tom Riddle's eyes had been before he turned them scarlet and slit-pupiled.

"Stab," said Harry, holding the locket steady on the rock.

Ron raised the sword in his shaking hands, and Harry gripped the locket tightly, bracing himself, already imagining blood pouring from the empty windows.

Then a voice hissed from out of the Horcrux. 'I have seen your heart, and it is mine."

"Don't listen to it!" Harry said harshly. "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!' shouted Harry; his voice echoed off the surrounding trees, the sword point trembled, and Ron gazed down into Riddle's eyes.

"Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter least loved, now, by the girl who fancies your friend … second best, always, eternally overshadowed …"

"Ron, stab it now!" Harry bellowed trying not to pay attention to Riddle's whispers. Did she fancy him? His hand shook where he held the locket for Ron. Ron raised the sword still higher, and as he did so, Riddle's eyes gleamed scarlet.

Out of the locket's two windows, out of the eyes, there bloomed, like two grotesque bubbles, the heads of Harry and Hermione, weirdly distorted.

Ron yelled 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 like trees with a common root, swaying over Ron and the real Harry, who had snatched his fingers away from the locket as it burned, suddenly, white-hot.

"Ron!" he shouted, but the Riddle-Harry was now speaking with Voldemort's voice and Ron was gazing, mesmerized, into its face.

"Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence … we laughed at your stupidity, cowardice, your presumption —"

"Presumption!' 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 trans-fixed, the sword hanging pointlessly at his side. "Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter? He comforted me when you left, too weak to stay. What are you compared to the Boy Who Lived?"

"Ron, stab it, STAB IT!' Harry yelled, trying not to look at the Riddle-Hermione, feeling her words cut at him. Ron did not move: his eyes were wide, and the Riddle-Harry and the Riddle-Hermione were reflected in them, their hair swirling like flames, their eyes shining red, their voices lifted in an evil duet.

"She was so soft last night," sneered Riddle-Harry, "wrapped around me, how dumb are you to think she would ever consider you?"

"Who wouldn't prefer him, what woman would choose you? I've never picked you over him and I never will. You are nothing, nothing, nothing compared to him," crooned Riddle-Hermione, and she stretched like a snake and entwined herself around Riddle-Harry, wrapping him in a close embrace as their lips met.

On the ground in front of them, Ron's face filled with anguish and he raised the sword high, his arms shaking.

"Do it, Ron!' Harry yelled, his heart feeling like it was going to burst out of his chest, he recognized that nightshirt formed by the smoke, it was the one Hermione was wearing last night before she ripped it off. His bones ached with restraining the wild impulse to snatch up the locket and hold it to his chest.

Ron looked towards him and Harry thought he saw a trace of scarlet in his eyes.

"Ron —?"

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

The monstrous versions of himself 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.

Slowly, Harry walked back to him, hardly knowing what to say or do. Ron was breathing heavily. His eyes were no longer red but their normal blue; they were also wet.

Harry stooped, pretending he had not seen and picked up the broken Horcrux. Ron had pierced the glass in both windows: Riddle's eyes were gone, and the stained silk lining of the locket was smoking slightly. The thing that had lived in the Horcrux had vanished; torturing Ron had been its final act.

The sword clanged as Ron dropped it. He had sunk to his knees, his head in his arms. He was shaking, but not, Harry realized from cold. Harry crammed the broken locket into his pocket, knelt beside Ron, and placed a hand, cautiously, on his shoulder.

Harry squeezed it bracingly, bloody hell, what would he tell him now? How would he and Hermione tell Ron what happened? "We've got to get back to Hermione."

"I'm sorry," Ron said in a thick voice. "I'm sorry I left. I know I was a — a —"

He looked around at the darkness as if hoping a bad enough word would swoop down upon him and claim him.

"You've sort of made up for it tonight," Harry said. 'Getting the sword. Finishing off the Horcrux. Saving my life."

"That makes me sound a lot cooler than I was," Ron mumbled.

"Stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was," said Harry. "I've been trying to tell you that for years. And now all we've got to do is find the tent again."

The walk following the doe through the dark forest had seemed lengthy, but now with Ron by his side, the journey back seemed surprisingly short. Too short. Anxiety stretched in Harry as the tent came into view, what would Hermione say?

Harry's steps sped up while Ron lagged behind. Hermione was still fast asleep as he had left her, tangled in her blankets. He called her several times before she woke up with a start.

She sat up quickly, her wide eyes meeting his, "What's wrong? Harry? Are you alright?"

Harry swallowed hard seeing the faint reddish mark on her neck from the scrape of his bristles. He could feel Ron come up behind him and wished he had more time, he had thought they would have more time to talk this out and work whatever it was between them before confronting anyone else—much less Ron.

"Everything is fine, maybe more than fine. There's someone here."

Her brow wrinkled, still a bit sleepy as she stared at him. "What do you mean? Who—?"

Hermione looked past him and spotted Ron, who standing with a smile on his face and his arms raised out for her. Harry opened his mouth to say something his foot moving to step forward, when Hermione's face paled, a panicked look on her face as her eyes shifted to stare at Harry.

The question in her eyes was so blatant it was like a stab in his fucking heart. What had Harry told Ron? He stared back at her, feeling his face lose color as he stepped back as Ron stepped forward.

I said nothing. I would never say anything you didn't want me to. Don't you know that?

Hermione jerked her attention back to Ron as he got close. Her voice was high-pitched and loud. "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!" Hermione laughed, a high-pitched out of control sound. Ron looked at him for help, but Harry turned away from both of them, his wand hand trembling slightly as he struggled to bury his rage.