Rufus Scrimgeour sat in a well-cushioned armchair, his hands resting on the thigh of the leg he had crossed over its neighbour, his fingers drumming a pattern on the said leg. The last few days had been… 'interesting' would be a word to describe it, as would 'calamity' although the Minister much preferred the word 'clusterfuck'. Because what happened two days ago in Scotland was exactly that. A clusterfuck.

"-lost 4 policemen, 2 MI5 agents, and an Interpol officer. Not to mention the cashier, who is still in critical condition!" The muggle sitting across from him said angrily, and Rufus couldn't help but let out a long sigh, aware the dressing down he was receiving was completely warranted. The third member present in the room was sitting a few feet away, shrouded in darkness, quiet for the moment. Rufus decided to focus on the angry man facing him first.

"I know, and as I said, what happened was a tragedy, and the fault lies entirely on us." He said using a severe voice, but the muggle didn't look convinced, a scowl on his face.

"I don't like the fact you're lying to us."

"Excuse me?" Rufus asked in genuine surprise, not expecting this conversation to go that way. But the muggle looked unperturbed.

"You want to make me believe two runaway teenagers, one of which is supposedly a kidnapping victim, defeated all of your special forces and then killed 10 of our best and incapacitated another 40 of them. Do you think me a fool?!" Rufus genuinely flinched at that, realizing he'd underestimated his muggle contemporary. He took a quick glance towards the figure in the corner of the room, before sighing deeply and wiping his suddenly sweaty palms in his robe.

"I swear to you Minister Blair, what happened was a tragic mistake. The wanted, Harry Potter, got into a duel with our Aurors, and your men got caught in the crossfire. You have my sincerest apologies, and I assure you it won't happen again." The muggle Prime Minister simply shook his head at that, his eyes seemingly assessing him for a moment, before he looked away.

"Very well. I will trust your word. For now." Rufus' entire body relaxed at that, the relief at his lie being successful washing over him. It wasn't like he liked lying to the muggle leaders, but explaining everything would just take too much time, and would probably make them try and interfere. It was safer for all of them if muggles and wizards remained separated. Still, he knew they couldn't afford another disaster like that, or soon his lies wouldn't fool the muggles anymore.

He said his goodbyes to the two muggles, before exiting the richly decorated house and apparating straight back to his house. He was now being pressured by both You-Know-Who and the muggles, and he felt the pressure on his shoulders grow. As he greeted his wife with a kiss, he had only one thought in his head. They had to find Harry Potter, and soon.

Prime Minister Anthony Blair watched the door the wizard had just left through, wondering for the umpteenth time if he'd really made the right decision when he ran for the position of Prime Minister. The politicking and speeches and smiling to the press, that he could do, was very good at it in fact. But dealing with the underground government of mysterious stick-waving weirdos, that apparently lived right under their noses, well, that was way beyond his admittedly large pay grade.

"Most of what that man said was a lie." He was brought from his thoughts by a voice to his side, and he nodded once to show he agreed.

"That was my impression as well, yes." He confirmed, unsure of what else to add.

"I have a feeling this Harry Potter isn't what they claim he is."

"Indeed." He mused, "Our inside sources say the same. One has even claimed Potter was framed. Regardless, after what happened in Scotland, I'm beginning to fear some sort of a conflict with the wizards is inevitable." He said with a heavy heart, but he couldn't just ignore his people being killed left right and centre. The wizards could erase memories, but they couldn't erase the multitude of unexplained deaths. Healthy men didn't just drop dead in the middle of their morning strolls.

"I believe it would be best to arrange a meeting with this Mister Potter. Maybe he'll tell us the truth." The figure to his left said in a similarly grave voice to his, and he again nodded in agreeance.

"The MI5 is already on the case. We'll get the boy before the wizards do, I'm certain." He had full trust in their Intelligence department, they were the best in the business after all. The boy may have had his fancy magic, but Tony would like to see him evade a satellite.

"Very well. Oh, and Prime Minister?" The figure said, leaning a bit closer to him in her chair, wearing a severe look, "Put the army on high alert. We must be ready to protect our citizens at a moment's notice." The person said and he once more nodded, not really at liberty to refuse the order. The figure stood then, and he did the same, bowing his head.

"Prime Minister."

"Your Majesty." And with that, Queen Elizabeth II left the room, leaving Tony to ponder the situation they'd gotten into in silence.

His entire body felt like it was made from stone, his eyelids feeling like they'd been stitched to his eyes. And then there was the pain in his left leg, which was excruciating, and that said something considering how many injuries he'd suffered in his short life. The memories slowly came back, and he groaned at remembering the debacle the two of them had gotten themselves into this time.

He'd managed to get shot, he remembered the pain of it, the copious amounts of blood that was spraying out of the wound. He thought he was going to die, was certain of it actually. After everything Voldemort and his cronies threw at him, he was going to die from a muggle bullet. Only he didn't, because as usual, Hermione saved him.

His eyes fluttered open and immediately found the witch in question. She was sitting on the side of the cot where he was laying, her right arm entwined with his left, flipping the pages of a book with the other. He observed her as she chewed on her bottom lip, her brown eyes flying over the pages.

Her hair was a mess, and her clothes looked all crumpled, but to Harry, she'd never looked better. She'd saved him again, and he struggled to put into words just how grateful he was. He found the strength to squeeze her hand, and she immediately whirled around, eyes wide and tears already beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.

"Harry!" She screeched, before practically launching herself on top of him, her hands coming around his neck and squeezing him in a death grip. Despite the pain he was in, he reciprocated the gesture, holding her around her waist with as much strength as he had. He could feel her shivering as she held him, her tears hot on his neck.

"I-It's fine. I'm fine." He managed to get past his parched throat, coughing a few times to get rid of the itching sensation. The only response he got to that was the tightening of her hands and a muffled sob. They stayed like that for what felt like ages before Hermione's breathing levelled, and she pulled back, her face all splotchy and red.

"Y-you nearly died." She said in a near whisper, the hand that was still gripping his tightening its hold.

"Yeah, I imagine. You saved me." He wanted her to hear how grateful he was, how much he owed her.

"B-barely." Her voice sounded haunted, and he searched for something to say to make her feel better.

"Hey, I'm fine. You did great." There was a flash of something ugly on her face as he said it, but her expression soon smoothed into that familiar look of pure unabashed concern and worry.

"How do you feel?"

"Tired. And my leg hurts rather badly." He said truthfully, flinching every time he moved his left leg.

"I can only imagine. I'm sorry Harry, I didn't want to risk any advanced healing spells." She looked unbelievably guilty at this, and Harry wasn't about to stand it.

"You saved my life Hermione. A bit of pain is nothing in comparison. I owe you. Again." She shook her head and looked away, at which Harry looked around the cabin, spotting Hedwig looking at him in concern.

"How long have I been out?"

"Since yesterday." She sniffled at that, and he nodded, trying to construct a timeline in his head.

"At least we got food, so it wasn't a total disaster?" He tried finding something positive in their shopping trip from hell, but Hermione didn't look amused.

"Yeah, we got some food, but I lost both my jacket and hoodie. Not to mention you'll need days if not weeks to recover. It was a disaster." He had nothing to reply with, his eyes aligning themselves on her bare arms.

"Aren't you cold?" He asked, the cabin chilly even with the stove burning and her bluebell flames. She shrugged, rubbing at her upper arms.

"A little, maybe. I was using your jacket while you've been asleep." She said shrugging, looking at the floor.

"What's wrong?"

"I kind of… feel like it's my fault you got hurt. I feel like I let you down." She said still looking at the floor, and for a long moment Harry was too confused to even reply.

"What?" He blurted not so eloquently after his brain resumed working, unable to see how she could possibly think that. "If anything, it's my fault. You wanted us to go back after nearly getting hit by that snowplough moron." He argued hotly, trying and failing to sit up so he could better face her.

"But I tripped and exposed us. Again." She sounded so sad, so defeated and Harry could swear his chest hurt more than his leg.

"Hermione, look at me." He told her gently, waiting until her misty eyes connected with his, "None of this was your fault."

"But-"

"No. Take it from the 'blaming myself for everything' expert. You tripped, big deal, it happens. But when I got hurt, you came through, like always, and saved me. Just know that there is nobody in this world that I trust and depend on more than you." He gave an incredulous chuckle, "Let me down. Ridiculous." He could see she didn't entirely agree with what he'd said, but that guilty expression had disappeared.

"That may be so, but I'm still disappointed in myself. I promise I'll do better in the future Harry."

"You did just fine Hermione. We managed to escape from like 50 people, I think even Dumbledore would have struggled to pull that off." He argued trying to reassure her, and it did seem like he was slowly getting through to her. But just to make it clear, he gripped her one hand with both of his, sitting up despite the pain that motion caused to his leg.

"Listen closely." He said, waiting until she connected their gazes, "You have nothing to apologize for, you did great. And I couldn't be prouder of you than I am right now. I wish I had your impressive vocabulary so I could properly explain just how important you are to me." He said, never once looking away from her, wanting to let her know exactly what he was feeling.

Hermione looked a bit lost after that, her eyes wandering off and Harry could tell she'd zoned out. But this was Hermione, he knew her better than anybody, so he just waited, knowing she was thinking something over. And then like a switch had been flipped, the frown she'd been wearing since he woke disappeared, a soft smile on in its stead.

"You mean a lot to me too, Harry." She said looking at their joined hands, before moving forward and giving him a much more tender hug.

"I can't lose you, Harry." She said into his neck, her grip tightening and he could hear the shakiness in her voice. He wanted nothing more than to reassure her, but knowing he was being hunted by the entire country, and the fact that he had Voldemort's soul piece stuck inside him, his survival was everything but certain. So, he simply held her a bit tighter, deciding not to make a promise he couldn't keep.

"I sent Dumbledore a letter while you were asleep." She said after a few minutes, pulling away and moving back to her sitting position at the edge of the cot.

"Really? What did you ask him?" His feelings regarding his mentor were still muddled, but he was certain the headmaster would try to help them if he could.

"I asked him to give me all the info on the Horcruxes he had."

"Did he reply?"

"He did, Hedwig returned just a few hours ago. He gave me a copy of his personal notebook on Horcruxes, which includes the theory behind them, as well as his ideas for what they are. It's really fascinating actually." Hermione gushed, immediately looking like she was back in her element as she started talking about the headmaster's notes.

"So, do you think this book will help you get the thing out of me?" He interjected after Hermione started going on one of her absurdly long tangents, trying very hard to sound casual. She stopped dead, looked briefly at the notebook in her hand, before meeting his eyes, chewing on her bottom lip. He could quite literally see her deciding on whether to lie or not, before her shoulders slumped.

"No, not really." She quickly continued, "But that doesn't mean I'm giving up, far from it. Realistically, I think the only way for me to figure something out is by finding one of them, and then examining it." She concluded, and Harry nodded, trusting her on these matters.

"What does Dumbledore think the rest are?" He asked next, genuinely curious what objects Voldemort decided to use as vessels for bits of his soul.

"Well, Dumbledore has destroyed the Gaunt family ring, that was one, and you destroyed the diary, that was the second…"

"Wait, that diary was one of them?!" He jumped up from the cot, wincing as pain shot through his leg.

"That's what Dumbledore reckons. Now for the remaining 4…"

"I thought he didn't know how many there are?" Harry interjected, causing Hermione to pause and look up at him.

"Hmm? Oh, right, yes, he apparently managed to get Slughorn to reveal the number." She explained, adding to his incredulous expression, "And no, I have no idea why Slughorn would know that information."

"I suppose that's why he wanted me to get close to him. He was already preparing me for this little hunt of his." It made sense now that he thought about it, although he was confused as to why Dumbledore didn't just tell him all this outright.

"Where was I…? Ah, right, his theories on what the rest of the Horcruxes are…" Hermione said flipping the notebook a few pages ahead. "Dumbledore reckons Voldemort is using objects related to the Hogwarts founders…" Harry listened intently as Hermione explained Dumbledore's reasoning, before moving on to the objects themselves.

"So, a cup, a locket and a snake. And then one more." He summarized her words into two short sentences, his head starting to hurt from all the information it was forced to absorb.

"That's his theory, yes. Here, do you want to see his sketches of these relics?" He nodded at her question, and she handed him the notebook, the page already open on a large pencil-drawn picture of Helga Hufflepuff's cup. Harry took one quick glance before turning the page, the picture this time depicting a locket, a pair of snakes and a large S on its front. Almost as soon as Harry spotted the picture, his eyes widened and his breath left him in a gasp.

"Hermione." He said urgently, reaching over and grabbing hold of her thigh, squeezing it hard.

"W-what's wrong, Harry?" She sounded scared, and he instantly released her, feeling regret for potentially causing her pain.

"We've seen this locket before Hermione. Remember? Back in Grimmauld? The one we couldn't open?" He said at high speed, his excitement immediately transferred over to Hermione, whose wide eyes matched his own.

"Brilliant! Do you think that's it?"

"It must be. It looked exactly the same!" Harry could barely contain his excitement, and Hermione looked the same. It was almost unbelievable that they'd managed to figure out where one of the Horcruxes was immediately, when the great Albus Dumbledore hadn't a clue. It gave Harry even more hope that Hermione could get the Horcrux out of him, because it was now evident Dumbledore didn't know everything.

"The question now is what do we do?" Hermione bit her lower lip as she asked the question, but Harry didn't exactly get the problem.

"Uhm, we get it, of course. I know we 'threw it away', but I'd bet all of my money that Kreacher stole it back." He told her in the same level of excitement as before, but Hermione's bottom lip wasn't released from her bite.

"I came to the same conclusion, yes. And we will get it, that's certain. But after I get whatever information I can from it, then what? Do we try destroying it or do we let Dumbledore do it?" Now Harry understood her conundrum, but to him the choice didn't much matter.

"Do we even know how to destroy it?"

"Yes and no. If we trust Dumbledore's notes, then there is only a single thing we could use, and that's fiendfyre." Hermione said looking towards the notebook, and Harry placed a comforting hand on her thigh.

"We'll send it to Dumbledore. He may have not done us any favours in the past few weeks, but I still very much trust him in this matter." Harry said simply, not intending to overcomplicate the issue. They'd find the Horcrux, Hermione would study it, and then they'd let Dumbledore destroy it. Easy peasy.

"If you're sure." Hermione still didn't look entirely convinced, but Harry wasn't too bothered by the entire thing, telling her as much.

"Relax Hermione, we'll figure it out as we go. Now, how about we get the locket. It would be rather embarrassing if Kreacher didn't actually steal it and a bit of Voldemort's soul is now in some garbage pile in London." He said trying to lighten the mood, feeling like he'd succeeded when Hermione gave him her trademarked eye-roll.

"Go ahead, but please, Harry, be nice to him." Hermione said gently, but Harry decided to ignore her. He couldn't stand the elf, and he knew if Kreacher started with any of his pure-blooded bullshit he would certainly not hold back.

"Kreacher." He called aloud, and a second later the old elf was standing in front of them, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, including a burning pit.

"Master has called Kreacher." The old elf greeted, his scowl growing ever larger as he spotted Hermione.

"Yes, Kreacher, I have a task for you."

"Kreacher will do whatever Master wishes." The elf looked visibly pained to utter those words, but Harry had no sympathy for him.

"Good. I want you to bring us that locket we threw out last year. You know, the green one with the large S and snakes." He described the locket, immediately knowing Kreacher had it as the elf's eyes bulged.

"T-the locket." Kreacher said as if he couldn't believe it, his small bulging eyes focusing on some unseen point behind Harry.

"Yes, the locket, do you have it or not?" He was getting a bit impatient and irritated now, and not even Hermione's calming hand on his shoulder was doing anything to calm him down. Kreacher looked utterly speechless for a good moment, before nodding.

"Kreacher does. B-but the locket cannot be destroyed. Kreacher tried, but he failed!" The old elf started to abruptly hit himself into the metal leg of Harry's cot, much to Hermione's clear horror.

"Harry, stop him." While Harry disliked the elf severely, he was under no circumstances wanting him to hurt himself.

"Kreacher, stop! Stop!" The elf froze as if petrified, a few drops of blood dripping down his forehead. Hermione had in the meantime grabbed her wand, and was now approaching, probably with the intent of healing the cut on Kreacher's head. But as soon as the elf realized what was happening he recoiled as if struck, backing up as if facing a lion.

"Kreacher will not be healed by a filthy mudblood." He could see Hermione freeze mid wand-swing, and he couldn't help but clench his teeth hard enough to hurt.

"I told you to never say that word again!" He jumped up from the cot, nearly going straight to the floor at the pain in his leg, but he steadied himself, his anger proving stronger than pain. He could hear Hermione telling him to calm down, but all he could see was the disgusting elf who called his best friend a slur, and who betrayed his godfather.

"Kreacher apologizes, Master." The elf said with visible hesitation, the blood from his forehead now dripping onto the wooden floor.

"Now, you will bring us that locket, are we clear?" Harry said in a dangerous whisper, and Kreacher reluctantly nodded, disappearing with a pop.

"You need to calm down, Harry." Hermione said from beside him, his best friend looking at him with a stern look.

"I'm calm." He grumbled angrily, looking away at her raised eyebrow.

"Look, I can understand why you're feeling this way, but treating Kreacher like this isn't right." She said and Harry sighed, angry that he knew Hermione was right. He knew that Kreacher had been mistreated by his previous owners and that the old elf was just acting how he'd been taught. But all Harry could see as he looked at him was the being that got his godfather killed, and he wasn't certain if he could get over that.

Feeling Hermione's gaze on the back of his neck, he resolved to at least try as the small elf returned, a golden locket clasped in his hand. His blinding anger at the elf momentarily forgotten, he shared a quick look with Hermione before reaching down and taking the locket from Kreacher's hand.

He could tell the locket was the real deal as soon as his fingers touched the metal, an uncomfortable, slimy feeling passing over him. It didn't take a genius to figure out this locket was evil, his hands feeling almost dirty as he held the cursed thing.

"Is it a Horcrux?" Hermione asked from her seated position next to him, peering at the locket inquiringly.

"It is, I can… sort of feel it, I guess. This is it." He responded before his eyes sought out Kreacher, who was waiting patiently, his eyes tracking the locket.

"Thank you, Kreacher." He said with as much civility as he could muster, and the elf tipped his head slightly at that.

"How did this locket get into Grimmauld though, that's what I want to know?" Hermione sounded puzzled, her gaze directed at the elf. Harry joined her gaze, prompting Kreacher to speak.

"It was Master Regulus. He used to be a servant of the dark lord, but then he betrayed him." The elf's eyes misted over, his hands fisting in his pants, "Master Regulus went to hunt these soul pieces, b-but died t-trying."

"Is this the only one he found?" Asked Hermione quickly, just as invested in this story as Harry. Kreacher looked undecided for a long while, looking repeatedly from Hermione to him to the locket and then back towards Hermione. Finally, after almost half a minute the elf spoke, his voice as timid as he'd ever heard it.

"Master found another Horcrux. H-he was killed while retrieving it." Harry shared a dumbfounded look with Hermione, the levels of excitement once again rising rapidly. There was no way they'd just found two of the four Horcruxes in the span of an hour.

"Do you know where it is? I presume it must still be there." Harry asked carefully, feeling a sliver of pity for Kreacher, tears flowing from his eyes at the mention of Regulus.

"Yes, Kreacher knows where it is. Kreacher can take Master and the mudbl- Miss there." Harry ignored his slip, his heart beating rapidly as he absorbed this new information. He shared a look with Hermione, the brunette chewing on her bottom lip.

"We will go there Kreacher, but not at this very moment. Harry needs to heal up first, and I want to first study this one." Her plan did make a lot of sense, seeing as Harry could barely sit upright like this without his leg burning in pain.

"Thank you Kreacher, you may go. We'll call for you when we need you to take us there." He dismissed the elf, looking over at Hermione as soon as the elf disappeared.

"Can you believe this?"

"To think that had Dumbledore just asked Kreacher, he would be more than halfway done already." Hermione said thoughtfully, renewed hope that they just might have this all under control clear to see in her eyes. She looked towards Harry's injured leg then, a hint of indecision crossing her face.

"But do you think we should go ourselves? If Regulus Black died retrieving this Horcrux, then it is probably well protected. Maybe we should let Dumbledore take this one." He could hear the worried tone in her voice, but despite the certain danger he knew they would be facing, he wanted to do this alone.

"We should at least go and check it out. If we see we aren't up to it we can always leave and write to Dumbledore." He said shrugging, and he could see Hermione agreed with his suggestion.

"Very well, but first you need to recover. You shouldn't be sitting either." She scolded him, pushing at his chest until he lay back down on the incredibly uncomfortable cot. The sky outside was already turning dark, and with that came the cold, the fire in the stove now just barely keeping the chill at bay.

"Am I supposed to just sleep here, or…?" He asked after a few moments of comfortable silence, their tent nowhere to be seen.

"Yeah, I kept the stove going for the entire night, and with the blanket, you didn't seem to be cold. Plus, I didn't want to try getting you into the tent, considering the injury you had." He nodded at that, his hoodie, the blanket and the stove doing just about enough for the room not to feel chilly. But while he was reasonably warm-ish himself, he was certain Hermione wasn't, her short shirt the only thing she was wearing.

"Where did you sleep last night then?" He asked next, Hermione looking at the floor at that.

"I didn't." Harry felt awful for only now noticing the dark circles under her eyes, and he felt determined to fix that.

"You'll just sleep next to me tonight." He said boldly, not flinching as Hermione's sceptical look was directed his way.

"Somebody has to keep the stove going or we'll both freeze." She argued, but her voice lacked any real strength, and Harry knew he just had to push her a bit more and she'd fold.

"Come on Hermione, we'll just snuggle like we did in the tent. If you conjure up some of your flames we should be good." She blushed a bright red as he mentioned them snuggling, but Harry didn't pay much attention to that, more focused on what she would decide. In any case, he wasn't about to let her stay awake for yet another night. She seemed to mull over the options for a moment, before nodding shily.

"Fine. But only because I need to be fully rested if I want to figure out anything about this Horcrux." He smiled at her reasoning, not willing to contradict it as long as she got the sleep she deserved after saving his sorry arse. Observing her goose-pimpled arms as she went to put some more wood into the stove, he made a further observation.

"By the way, why don't you just conjure yourself a hoodie? You managed a bed, surely you can do a hoodie?"

"I tried, but it kept coming out wrong. A bed may be bigger, yes, but it's much simpler in design. I'm afraid I'll be cold for the moment." She said whilst throwing some sticks into the fire, the wood crackling as the heat enveloped it. Harry watched her for a few moments, before deciding to speak up.

"We'll figure something out. But for now, get under the blanket before you freeze." He said, holding the one end open for her to join him. She blushed slightly but didn't argue, walking over and removing her shoes, before getting under the sheets. She seemed weirdly uncomfortable for a few moments, and Harry wondered what had happened to cause this, considering she had no problem sleeping next to him just a few short days ago.

"Is there a problem?" He asked concernedly, worried that she changed her mind and now hated him for what happened, or something along those lines. She froze in her movements momentarily at his question, before laying down and placing her head on his shoulder.

"No, no problem at all. Night, Harry." She said, but Harry could hear the almost unnoticeable shake in her voice as she said it. Most people would have never noticed, but he knew Hermione Granger better than anybody, and he wondered what was bothering her. Still, that was a question for tomorrow, feeling dead tired despite sleeping for the past day and a half. He closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.