A/N: Hello, everyone. I'm very sorry for the long delays between chapters. I've recently started school again, and, in addition to working a full-time job, well, needless to say, I've been very busy. I'm working on getting these chapters to you as quickly as possible. I appreciate your patience and your support. The response to this story is astounding so far. I'm so glad the vast majority of you seem to be enjoying it so far. Thank you.

Without further ado, let's continue, shall we?

Chapter 6 – Winter Creeps

The heavy pounding of Harry's heart muffled out all other sounds as he stared at the jagged pieces of the locket at his knees. All of the misery it created, the desperation to destroy it, it was gone. Now it was nothing more than a broken heirloom of an ancient, prejudicial line. His eyes flickered to the sword still clutched between his fingertips, its majesty marred by its reminder of his own impending doom. The air still bit at his cheeks, burrowed beneath his skin, and shrivelled his bones until they rattled, but he felt numb. Empty. Slowly, the thumping in his chest quieted enough to pick up the voices surrounding him, familiar voices. Then he remembered that he wasn't alone.

They were arguing already. She screamed at him, her wand pointing dangerously towards his throat, demanding that he just leave again, that they didn't need him, that they didn't want him here. Funny how if those words had left her mouth that morning, Harry would have been floating on cloud nine. Perhaps he would have wrapped his arm around her waist, sucked her into his side, nodded his head in agreement so that he could have her all to himself. But everything was different now. Everything had changed. Ron coming back when he did was too perfect to be considered coincidence. This was fate. The path laid out before him had no forks, no options, only huge obstacles that he had no choice but to drag himself over alone. Staying still wasn't an option either; the ground was already beginning to crumble beneath his feet. He needed to die, and Hermione needed to live. Regardless of how she considered him romantically, his death would surely wound her. Ron could provide her the comfort she needed if she could manage to forgive him. Ron staying, continuing on with them, was now a vital part of this operation.

When Harry stood, the steadiness of his legs surprised him, and he looked between Hermione and Ron, watching them fight, watching their faces blush with anger and with cold.

"How convenient that you just so happened across the sword of Gryffindor." Hermione was practically spitting at him.

"I didn't. Harry found it."

"Even more proof that we don't need you."

Ron's chin lifted in defiance. "Harry would be dead if I hadn't come back!"

"I was on my way to him. I would have saved him. You've no idea what we've already been through without you. We. Don't. Need. You." Red sparks shot out of the tip of Hermione's wand, one foot inching closer to him, savagery shining out of her eyes like a torch, clear and bright and burning.

Ron's mouth opened to retort, but silence left it. Then, his shoulders slumped inward, the fire draining out of him. He sighed, taking several moments to evaluate the earth at his feet whilst Hermione crossed her arms, holding her ground. Finally, he said, "You're probably right. But I never made a bigger mistake in my life before I left you. I thought of you every day, every minute. I couldn't sleep or eat. I spent every moment thinking of you, wishing I had never left."

Hermione's chin lifted, perhaps distrustful of his sudden change in tactic.

Ron went on, "I missed you. I'm sorry. Merlin, I'm so sorry. If you want me to leave, then I'll leave. But I need you to know that I, well, I spent the last year realizing that I'm a complete idiot for never telling you, realizing that I may never get another chance, and now that I'm here…looking at you…." He sighed, his eyes falling to the ground once more. "I love you, Hermione. I think I always have. I just never knew how to show it."

Harry sucked in a sharp breath, but the sound was muffled by a sudden gust of wind. It felt as if he'd been engulfed in flame. He was burning…burning. His eyes flickered to Hermione then, desperate for her reaction, desperately hoping that she would spit at him or curse him or tell him that she could never love him back. But she didn't. Instead, her arms fell to her side as she stumbled back, the fury gone, replaced with unbridled shock. A little sound fell out of her mouth before she covered it, her wide eyes shining above her hand. Then she dropped her arm back to her side, her teeth clenched, her glassy eyes now narrowed and tight. Her mouth opened, closed, then opened again before she snapped it shut and marched back through the trees without another sound, leaving Harry and Ron alone by the little pond. It was not the reaction Harry needed, not even close. Ron had got through to her, just the slightest bit, even if she was unwilling to admit it now. But Harry needed to put his emotions aside. This was what needed to be done. Hermione needed to forgive Ron, needed to lean on Ron, so that Harry could be free to die without worry.

With his shoulders shaking almost imperceptibly, Ron's head bowed. Harry stared at him, calculating the likelihood of Hermione accepting Ron back, wondering what sort of pushes would be necessary to achieve that. After a moment, the freckled man seemed to remember Harry, his eyes flickering to him with an embarrassed grimace. "Do you want me to leave?" His voice sounded almost as empty as Harry felt.

Yes. "No." Harry's hand tightened around the hilt of the sword. "I reckon we can use all the help we can get."

"Really?" Ron rocked back on his heels slightly, his eyebrows high on his forehead. "I…thank you. You don't know what that means to me. I'm sorry, Harry. For everything. I'll make it up to you. I swear."

Harry shrugged, staring up at the trees and the snow that fell around them. His teeth clenched, a final resistance before moving forward with his plan. "Ron." His eyes grew dark as he stared at the estranged face he once loved as a brother. "Make it up to Hermione. Fix what you've done."

Ron stared, his face calculating. Then, slowly, he nodded. "I will."

A moment passed as they gazed at each other, their eyes baring the other from any insights into their respective minds, before Harry turned and began to walk back, his muscles stiff and jittery from their encounter with the frozen pond. Ron's footsteps crunched behind in the accumulating snow as he followed. The night was silent.

After a few minutes, Ron's quiet voice cut through the stillness. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there something going on? Between you and her, I mean."

Harry swallowed, his throat feeling tight, his heart constricting. He buried it all as deeply as it would go. "No. Of course not. She's like a sister." Whatever pieces of himself that were left inside of him crumbled into dust and blew away with the cold, night air.

…

The robins sang their metallic tune as the wind whistled through the empty branches outside. Hermione's eyes opened, crunchy from dried tears. She woke in her bed alone. Harry was curled in his cot, his back to the rest of the tent, clutching the sword of Gryffindor like a child clutching a stuffed animal. Ron's return felt as unreal as a dream, but it stayed present in her mind as she sat up, looking towards his old cot. A lumpy shape hid beneath the duvet. She glared at it. That dolt told her he loved her. Shaking her head, she tried to pretend that her heart didn't pang at the thought. She loved him once, certainly. She may still love him. But the anger overshadowed the emotion, and the betrayal made it all taste bitter.

After showering, the boys still slept. This angered her, but she brushed it off, beginning to pack her belongings into her endless bag. She considered leaving them both behind, but the thought left as quickly as it came. She could never do that to Harry, even without their strange affliction. It was nearly noon before Ron stirred in his cot. He sat up and stretched before his eyes landed on her. She refused to look at him, the sight of him drew too many conflicting emotions, so she continued to work, hoping he would catch the hint and get out of her peripherals.

Instead, he spoke to her as if he had deluded himself into thinking that whatever it was that he said to Harry to convince him to let him stay would absolve his guilt in her mind as well. But his confession of love still weighed heavily in her ribcage, tormented her thoughts. "Morning," he said, coming up beside her.

Her body stiffened at his closeness. She didn't respond.

Ron waited for the reply that never came. Eventually, he cleared his throat. "Are you leaving?"

"We are leaving. We've been here far too long already." She packed as much acid into her voice as possible, shifting around him and stuffing pots and pans into her bag.

"Would you like some help?" He began to pull the canned goods from the cupboard and set them on the worktop beside her.

"Why are you still here? How many times do I have to tell you to go away?" She snatched the cans off the granite and threw them into her bag, slamming the cupboard shut.

"Harry said I could stay."

"Did he?" Shuffling passed him, she continued emptying the cupboards. "How generous of him."

"I understand why you're angry with me. I get it. I would be angry too." He began pulling food stuffs out of the fridge, setting those also on the worktop as he spoke. "But it was a mistake. A horrible mistake. I regret it."

"Were the terrible, nasty things you said to Harry before you left a mistake as well?" Hermione conjured a box to place the refrigerated items in before placing cooling charms on it and setting the things inside more gently than she'd done anything else. Food was too precious to risk, even angry as she was.

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes. Yes, they were." Her silence seemed to make him uncomfortable, and after a few minutes of it, he said, "Wouldn't it be easier to use magic to do this?"

Hermione stopped what she was doing to glare at him, her hands trembling. "Do you know what the word 'therapeutic' means?"

He sighed and took three steps back.

She continued packing. "Of course, it would be far more therapeutic if there wasn't a fully grown toddler stalking my every move."

His jaw clenched. It seemed she had finally got through his gentle façade. He opened his mouth to fire back before he was stopped by another voice.

"Good morning," Harry said, suddenly standing behind them. "Are we moving on today, Hermione?" His voice was perfectly polite, too polite…cold. Her heart spasmed once more, guilt and uncertainty clogging up her throat.

She fixed Ron with another livid glare before turning to Harry, coughing slightly, and attempting to shake off the brooding emotion churning around in her stomach. "I'd like to, yes. If an oaf as thick as this one," she pointed over her shoulder at the redhead beside her, "can find us, then I shudder to think who else could."

Harry looked at Ron. "How did you find us?"

Ron bit his lip, his cheeks colouring slightly beneath the freckles. "Erm, it's a long story."

"We have time," Harry said before waving his wand and muttering an incantation that had every belonging in the tent fly neatly into Hermione's bag. "Why don't tell you us on the way?"

Ron nodded, though his eyes flickered quickly towards the angry brunette. Hermione huffed, throwing her arms into the air, but otherwise didn't protest. The three of them packed up the tent, removed their wards, and disapparated. All the while, Ron launched into his tale. He told them that he spent the majority of the past year with Bill and Fleur. He hadn't seen the rest of his family but knew they were okay. He said that the world had gone to hell. Voldemort's followers were rounding Muggleborns up by the day, sometimes even publicly executing them. The Order was doing all it could to help from the shadows, but many members had left in Harry's absence. A lot of people worried he was dead or had fled the country. Harry didn't react to this information, although it seemed Ron expected he would.

"You still haven't told us how you found us." Harry set up their tent while Hermione conjured new wards around them. They had set up camp in a large field. In the distance, they could see England's southeastern coastline where the white cliffs of Dover hid just out of sight. Winter's icy fingers had not stretched here yet, but the nature had already prepared for its arrival with naked trees and browning grass. When he was finished with the tent, Harry sat in front of their little shelter and built a fire by hand, only using his wand to light the brush and parchment he placed beneath the pyramid of branches and logs. Hermione sat beside him and watched. Ron stood a few feet from them, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

Ron spared them a fleeting glance. "You'll think I'm daft."

"I already do," Hermione said, still refusing to look at him properly.

Harry frowned at her, before looking back at Ron. "Try me."

Ron gazed at Hermione then, his eyes shining with emotion, his lips curled downward. Then he pulled a little device from his pocket, the Deluminator. "It happened a few days ago. I was at Bill's, lying in bed. It was early morning, but I couldn't sleep. That's when I heard…." He looked away, rubbing his neck.

"Heard what?" Harry's eyes stayed fixed on him.

Staring at the ground, Ron fidgeted his weight from foot to foot, a nervous little dance, before he glanced between Harry and Hermione, his thumb running over the latch of the Deluminator repetitively. "Hermione's voice."

Hermione lifted her head, glaring at Ron distrustfully. "I beg your pardon?"

Ron could only meet her gaze for a moment before turning towards the horizon. He was silent for several moments, then finally worked up the courage to continue speaking. "I heard your voice, coming from the Deluminator. Just your voice."

She huffed, crossing her arms. "And what did I say?"

"You said, 'Ron, come back.'"

Harry's eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak.

"I didn't say that." Hermione glared at Ron.

You did, Harry thought, opening his mental barricade just enough to let the words slip through. You said it in your sleep the other morning. Then his mind snapped shut before she could see anything else hidden inside.

Hermione turned to stare at him, her stomach flipping uncomfortably. Perhaps that could explain his distance and strangeness over the last few days. Once more, the guilt swirled inside her belly, making her feel sick.

"Well," Ron went on, still gazing at the sky, "Either way, that's what I heard. Then a ball of light came out of this thing." He waved the Deluminator flippantly. "It went straight into my chest, and I disapparated. It brought me outside of your wards. Course, I didn't know that at first. I stayed out in the cold for days, waiting, hoping one of you would show. I was just about to give up when I saw Harry come out. But before I could say anything, he disapparated. By then, I knew I was in the right place, and it was only a matter of time before I'd be able to catch up to you. And I was right. A few hours later, Harry went wandering off into the woods, following some Patronus."

"Patronus?" Hermione demanded, glaring at Harry with disbelief. Surely, he wouldn't do something so reckless after everything they'd already been through.

Harry stared off at the horizon, his voice distant and aloof. "I saw a Patronus in the form of a doe. I followed it, and it lead me to the pond. The sword was at the bottom of it."

Something lingered in his voice, and Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that he was leaving something out, something important. She gazed at him for several moments, but he refused to look at her. Eventually, she gave up, directing her irritation back at Ron. "Let's see if I understand correctly." Hermione's eyes burned a hole into Ron's skull. "You heard me…calling out to you…begging you to 'come back', a ball of light goes into your chest, you… 'follow it', whatever that means. It takes you to the Forest of Dean where you 'wait in the cold for days' until Harry magically appears, following some strange Patronus, then you rescue him. That's how you found us?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Ron cleared his throat. "I know it sounds crazy."

"Not at all." The sarcasm dripped off her words. Hermione looked at Harry then. "May I talk to you?" Her eyes flickered towards Ron. "Alone?"

Harry swallowed, then nodded, though Hermione detected a bit of disdain. Shooting a glance at Ron who still fidgeted nervously with the little, silver device Dumbledore had left him, Harry followed Hermione into the tent. She cast a silencing spell at the tent flap before rounding on him, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes searching his rigid form. "Do you believe this nonsense?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair once, then twice. "I'm not sure," he said finally.

"I think it's rubbish. All of it."

"He did know what you said in your sleep. It was a direct quote."

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "A lucky guess."

A shaking sigh tumbled out of his mouth. "I think we should give him a chance."

"What?" Hermione's brows nearly touched her hairline. "You're joking. After he abandoned us for a year? You want to just…forgive him? Like nothing happened?" She didn't believe him. He was hiding something again. Even if she couldn't prove it, she knew it in her bones.

"Yeah. He seems sorry. I think he knows he made a mistake, and he wants to make it up to you." Again, his voice rang all wrong in her ears.

Her eyes narrowed as her arms tightened around her chest. "It's not just me he's wronged. What about you?"

"Quite frankly, I don't give a fuck." It was perhaps the first honest thing that rang true in her ears. "The past is the past. And I know you still love him."

The words caught her off guard, and her stomach fell into her feet. "That's…I…." Her brain stumbled, then faltered. Hermione wanted to refute it, but she couldn't, not truthfully.

"Hermione. I told you before. I won't hold it against you. I don't hold it against you. I know how you feel about him. You can't hide it from me. What happened between us was…." He flinched almost imperceptibly, but she caught it. "A mistake. We never would have done it if it wasn't for this fucking…thing between us, whatever it is."

"Are you mad?" Hermione's face had grown more and more flabbergasted as he spoke. "Have you completely lost your mind? Are you going to simply ignore the fact that this thing between us does exist? We have marks on our chests, Harry. We can't go more than a day or two without sleeping together. Our noses started bleeding when you apparated twenty kilometres away. And, what? I'm supposed to start a relationship with Ron while all this is going on? And you think he would just be okay with all that?"

"He doesn't have to know."

"You are mad. How could we possibly hide something like this?"

"It's getting better. You know it is. We figured out the Occlumency thing. We can go longer now without touching. It's only a matter of time before it goes away completely."

Her mouth fell open for a moment as she stared at him like he had more heads than Fluffy. "How can you be so sure? We don't even know what this is. It could very well never go away."

"There's only one way to find out. We'll starve it."

"There could be consequences." The sick feeling had returned to Hermione's stomach. He was talking crazy.

"There are no worse consequences than forcing you to be with someone you don't want and robbing you of the opportunity to be with the one you love."

Hermione stumbled back. The guilt…the guilt…it crippled her. "Harry, I…." She sighed. "It's not like that. I do want you. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. This whole situation is just so confusing." After scanning the room, she rubbed her face roughly. Though she felt Harry was hiding something from her, she decided to be honest with him anyway. "Yes, I think I do unfortunately still have feelings for Ron. But the last year we've spent together, well, I realized that…." She cleared her throat. "I have feelings for you too."

It took him a long time to respond. When he did, his voice sounded strange, foreign. "Have you ever considered that I don't want you that way?"

The ground fell out from beneath her feet, or at least, it felt like it had. She swayed slightly, her chest throbbing strangely. Her hand pressed against her heart, surprised by the ferocity of the emotions elicited by his words. "Oh." She blinked rapidly; a sudden wetness had pooled in her eyes. "Oh, I see."

He stared at her, his face smooth and empty.

She wanted to bury herself beneath her duvet and never emerge again. It was just embarrassment, she told herself, embarrassment at his rejection. But her heart splintered in her chest, and more tears were bubbling up in her eyes. She blinked rapidly again. Clearing her throat, she began to speak on autopilot. She heard the words coming out of her mouth, but she couldn't remember deciding to speak them. "If you want to try to starve this thing between us, then we'll starve it. We'll figure out how to get rid of it."

"I do." His voice was still odd, still different.

"Right." Each heartbeat was like a knife to her ribcage. "I'll double up on research. I'll let you know what I find."

"Okay."

Her hands were trembling; she hid them in her pockets. "I'm, erm, I'm going to get started now."

"I'll be outside." And he left.

She fell to her knees. Why did this hurt so badly? She choked back a sob, forced it down, her hand finding its way to her heart once more. It felt like she would die. It's just stupid infatuation, she thought. It shouldn't hurt like this. Squeezing her eyes shut, all she could see was Harry, their memories flying past her eyes like cars on a train, him apologizing after the Firebolt incident, the many, many days they spent together during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, the way he looked at her before the Yule Ball, him in his Quidditch captain uniform, the way he comforted her when Ron was with Lavendar, him broken and bleeding after their battle with Nagini, the incredible way he held her, kissed her, moved inside of her…. Tears rushed down her face before she could stop them. I fancy him; that's all, she told herself. She had no right to be this broken over a stupid, heartless boy. She shook her head. Even angry and heartbroken, she regretted thinking him stupid or heartless. It wasn't his fault he didn't want her. She was ugly and bossy and not as fun as Ginny. Taking a deep, shuddering breath in through her nose, she decided she would make good on her promise. Somehow, she would find out how to break this curse binding them together; she would set him free.

A week passed, and she found herself still shattered by Harry's rejection. It hurt worse than even Ron's abandonment. She spent nearly all of her free time reading and researching, but she could find nothing on the topic. It didn't help that she wasn't sure what she should be searching for. Growing discouraged and worried, she feared Harry would blame her if she couldn't find a way to break their connection. But he was perhaps onto something with his 'starving it' idea. It hurt the first couple of days, but after the fourth or fifth day, the pain dwindled somewhat. They were careful to avoid each other, giving the other a wide birth whenever they were in close proximity. Ron, thankfully, appeared clueless about their little problem, though he did seem to pick up on how forlorn Hermione was. He tried to get her to talk to him about it, but she wouldn't budge. So, he gave up pressing the issue and tried to cheer her up instead by attempting to make her laugh. Sometimes, he even succeeded. But every time she did laugh, she immediately remembered Harry again, and she would have to excuse herself to go to the loo where she would cry behind silencing spells for as long as she could without provoking suspicion. She told herself she was being ridiculous, that it was just meaningless infatuation, that she would get over him soon enough.

Harry spent much of his days outside, guarding the tent. Ron didn't seem to mind his absence, and Hermione was grateful to not be around him. His presence made her heart ache more…made his rejection all the more evident. He had grown entirely distant from the both of them, withdrawn, and practically silent. Occasionally, he would come into the tent, wiping his nose. A few times, Hermione was certain she saw blood on his shirt. But she couldn't bring herself to speak to him, afraid of him lashing out at her for breaking the silence between them. It was perhaps unreasonable of her to think that he would; Harry very rarely lashed out at her, if ever. But something had broken between them. She wasn't sure if it could ever be fixed. And she felt for the first time since befriending him that she no longer knew him. So, she avoided him as much as possible.

Ron seemed to grow tired of his distance eventually. A week after his return, Ron went outside to fetch Harry for dinner. Hermione, much to her dismay, had been doing much of the cooking. She hadn't improved much, but then, she hadn't been very hungry lately anyway. A foul taste in the back of her mouth had sprung up in the last few days. Nothing would get rid of it, and it was making her already poor appetite worse. When Harry entered the tent, she stiffened, stirring the soup she was making with a furious vigour. She snuck glances at him, but he wouldn't look at her. As he sat at the table, his eyes staring somewhere far away, Ron began to question him.

"So, what's the plan, Harry? I've been back a week, and we've made no moves towards finding the Horcruxes."

"I don't know. I know where one is, but there's no way of getting it safely."

The sound of his voice stabbed Hermione in the gut. She took the soup off the heat, her eyes filling with tears. Pressing her palms into her eyes, she struggled to control herself. Luckly, the two men didn't notice her.

Ron went on. "Where is it?"

"Around Bellatrix Lestrange's neck."

Ron's eyes widened. "Mm. That's…that's not good."

"No," Harry agreed.

"What else is left besides that one?"

"I'm not sure what it is, but there should only be one left now."

"So, two total?" Ron leaned back in his chair, eyebrows high on his forehead. "I guess you two have been busy."

Harry's eyes flashed to Hermione for a quarter of moment before they darted away. He cleared his throat. "We destroyed two in the span of a year. Not very impressive."

"Besides the locket, what else did you destroy?"

"The snake." Absently, Harry rubbed his collarbone on the spot where he'd been bitten. The image of him broken returned to Hermione, bleeding everywhere, unconscious, hardly able to breathe. Her stomach twisted.

"Wow. That's impressive." Ron grinned.

"It nearly killed him," Hermione said, her voice quivering. Harry and Ron looked at her then. She looked down. Swallowing – her mouth was so dry, that foul taste rotated her stomach further. "If you'd been there, nothing about it would have seemed impressive."

Ron turned back to Harry, studying him. "Is that where you got that new scar?" He touched his own cheek, indicating the spot he was referring to.

"Yeah. And a few others." Harry glanced at Hermione again. This time his eyes seemed concerned.

Hermione glared into the pot of soup, grabbing it, and walking it to the table. How dare he look concerned? He didn't care about her. Ron summoned three bowls and spoons from the cupboard and drawer. They ate in silence. She could barely touch hers. The taste in her mouth made it awful. Though judging by the way Ron wolfed it down, it couldn't have been that bad. Harry pushed his around with his spoon, taking few bites. With both men distracted, she felt comfortable enough to stare at Harry. Fury built up the longer she looked at him. She felt…used. She'd given him her virginity, trusted him with her body, and he'd never wanted her. He only wanted sex. More tears bubbled up in her eyes, but these were angry tears. How could he do this to her? How could he just take something so precious, so beautiful and ruin it by being so careless? He called it a mistake. Her stomach roiled. She was going to be sick.

Without a word, she darted to the toilet, and emptied the contents of her stomach into it. Then she sobbed uncontrollably. I hate him, she thought before another, desperate sobbed wrenched its way from her mouth. No, you silly, silly girl. You love him.