Seamus picked Hermione up by her waist and swung her in a circle, her quiet half-serious protests interjected with laughter weaving around his thoughts.

"If we don't manage anything, no Nathair or no magic…just know…Merlin, I'll still never be able to repay this-," Seamus began. He wasn't the sort that, until properly meeting Hermione in 4th year, managed to pull off things like this. He'd watched Hermione, Harry, and Ron go on their grand adventures, always secretly wishing he could have something exciting, or someone would go to the ends of the earth for you.

He was relieved at the seriousness of this. As dangerous as this may be, the idea that they were standing here, attempting any of this, and it wasn't just whispers of a never-enacted idea…blimey!

"Shh…" Hermione found her balance again, "Don't. Not a word of this. There's no debt to pay."

Seamus pulled back, such tenderness pulling in his stomach that he didn't know how to describe it. Her hair was puffed out from the electricity of the Portkey, frizzy ringlets framing her face. She chewed on her bottom lip as she watched him, and all at once, it seemed to hit Seamus that they were utterly alone.

He pulled her lips to his, kissing her with abandon, with every inch of himself. It was the most freeing he'd ever felt kissing her, no ears half-cocked for professors about to invade their privacy or parents that would come lumbering in. No, it was just him, Hermione, and the great wide world, and nothing else.

"Luv, I'm so…" He struggled for words as he clumsily tried to explain himself between kisses. But as he felt her tongue tease the seam of his lips, he realized it wasn't just tenderness that was pulling in his stomach.

Naughty, temping images filled his mind; pulling Hermione to the ground and pushing her shirt up, tasting between her breasts as she panted above his ears. Or sneaking her hands underneath his belt, guiding her fingers to himself. He imagined finishing on her fingers as she rocked her palm into him as he played her like a piano, eliciting breathless pitched 'ohs'. Or, the most tempting at all, to slide her underwear down and press inside of her, and though it wasn't what he thought it would be, there was something inherently deeply magical and ancestral about sex here, on the open plains. He may not have magic but even he could taste the temptation, sweet as treacle, nodding in agreement with his fantasies.

He broke apart, stumbling back.

Dammit; he was no better than a teenage boy! Well, he meant, yes, he was, but they were here for more than getting their kicks!

"Sorry, Luv, if we keep on at it…" He felt his cheeks blush, already fully at staff. He adjusted his pants, aware of Hermine's silence as she watched him, curiously.

"You're right," She said after a long moment, "We have ground to cover. Maybe…" It seemed she would finish the thought, but she thought better at the last moment.

But somehow Seamus still knew what she was going to say.

Maybe later.

He felt himself twitch at the idea.

"Don't say things you don't mean." It was meant to be teasing, but somewhere, there was a hard edge to it.

"I'm a teenager too," Hermione laughed, playing with her hair, twirling it around her finger, almost shyly, "And well, I…" She swallowed, "I might have some ideas myself."

It took every ounce of willpower in Seamus not to say 'fuck it' right then.

"I'd like to hear them. What you want me to do to you," He said with a self-satisfied grin, "Later." He added, not imagining he could summon any remaining control if she started listing off her sexual fantasies.

"Alright then," Hermione said, setting her things down to tie them together again, and settle things in, "We should be scarce before someone finds out we're not where we're meant to be," She said. She handed a second backpack to Seamus, and he was grateful to help in any way he could. Then, Hermione grasped her hair and twirled it around itself into a large mess on top of her crown and stuck her wand through it, using her teeth to pull an elastic from her wrist to keep it up and-

Wait a second, that wasn't her wand!

"Hermione!"

Hermione jumped so suddenly that she dropped her elastic.

"What?" She spun, "Oh, Merlin, not this soon!"

"What's…that?" He asked, pointing to the stick in her hair, "Why don't you have your wand?"

Hermione looked at him with frustration, "Let's use panic tones for actual panic," She said narrowing her eyes, "And of course it's my wand."

"No," Seamus shook his head. He knew her wand. He'd memorized the look of it. There was no more romantic thing than being able to recall your loved one's wand from memory, "That is a wand. Not yours."

"Well," Hermione tied her hair back and slid it out, staring at it. It was non-descript, painfully boring, "You're right, but I'm not wrong either. It's a wand that is now mine."

Seamus made a horrified sound, "What happened to your old one?"

"It's safe at Hogwarts," Hermione blinked, "If they can trace underage magic, surely they can trace a witch or wizard's whereabouts through their wand, right?" She logically pointed out, "So I couldn't have them just apparating to our location. It's incredible what shady folk Fred and Geroge know, people who can get unattached wands."

"But…" He felt his throat go dry, "If this is going to be dangerous, shouldn't you want a wand that is the best of you?"

"I think, if it comes down to it, it's not so much about the wand as about our wills…" She said cautiously, but he knew the thought had crossed her mind, "But I can't risk them finding us yet. Do you have your wand on you?"

Seamus gave a guilty wince, "Yes."

It was the only piece of magic he kept with him, hoping one day he'd wake up and he could use it again, and all of this would be some big fluke, a big gas. He couldn't part with it.

"Thought so," Hermione said, sighing, "I have a new one for you too…when you get your magic back," She added, holding out an equally un-brilliant wand.

Seamus weighed it in his palm. Despite not having magic, this one felt wrong. It wasn't attuned to him, to his magic - whatever lingered - and it felt no different than holding an ordinary stick.

He stared at it glumly.

"And my wand?" He asked. Hermione took it from his pocket, carefully, rolling it around in her fingers. She stuck it in the ground and then used her spare wand. He could tell she was fighting it, and that she was using more exertion than usual, but in the end, she glamoured his wand as a beautiful tree.

"It will be waiting for us when we leave," She insisted.

Seamus knew she was right, but sometimes, he hated she had such forethought.

"Alright…" He swallowed his sadness, "Where are we going?"

Hermione opened the leather book and flipped near the end, "Nathair was looking into a lot of places, like Tech Duinn or the Hill of Uisneach-,"

"The Otherworld?" Seamus choked out, "Why would he be interested in there?"

"It's hard to say, but…every point hints that this is where he's gone. And those were areas he researched heavily, but I think he decided that here was the best bet."

Seamus glanced around, a primal shiver running up his spine, recognizing where they were now, "Oweynagat Cave." It wasn't far from his grandmother's house. If they spun in the opposite direction and walked for twenty minutes, Seamus was sure they'd stumble upon it. His grandmother had always warned them away from playing here as children, and though it was nature to rebel, something in her warning kept all Seamus and his cousins away. Even saying it made him feel like something was watching him. He shoved it down, "Sure, Muggles think it's the Mouth of Hell, but isn't that just…superstition?" He didn't want to be here. Something was telling him to turn around.

"Every legend is rooted in some truth," Hermione said, utterly serious, "And I'd reckon that it's just unreachable to muggles. But for us, well, I hope." She gave a wry, nervous smile.

"Mam would tell me I'm barmy, seekin' this out," He said, forcing himself to laugh, "There are just some things no sane witch or wizard should do."

Hermione bumped his shoulder, "Whoever said either of us is sane?"

Well, she had him there.

"According to this map, we're not far," Hermione said, taking out a geologically marked paper, spreading it out, "This way."

Seamus followed blindly, walking through the thin trees with Hermione.

It wasn't long until they came upon something unremarkable, basically a hole in the ground. It hardly looked enough for one person to squeeze into.

"Here?" Seamus wheezed.

Hermione consulted her map, "Yes. Here."

He licked his lips nervously; Merlin, Nathair was trying to kill them both, wasn't he?

The feeling of someone focusing on him skittled across his arms again. He spun and caught a pair of yellow glowing eyes in the trees.

"Luv, I think we are being watched," He said, nudging Hermione. She glanced up from her pack and grinned.

"Well, indeed we are." She moved toward the eyes, which Seamus thought was a terrible idea, sure that it was some guardian beast, about to reach out and claw at them and-

Mrrow!

"A cat?" He asked, the air escaping his lungs. A furry thing jumped from the foliage, long-haired and stately.

"Yes, this is also known as the Cave of Cats, for good reason," Hermione said, reaching out and scratching under its chin, "I think we ought to take it as a good sign. Cats are inherently magical."

"Sure," Seamus said, but wasn't at all.

More eyes blinked at him from the trees.

"Do you think they just live here or…something else?" He asked quietly.

"A bit of both," Hermione said with a nod to herself, "Now, I'm not sure how Nathair navigated, but I have to wonder…" She smiled at a cat that came, curling itself around her legs, "Maybe they act as guides, if you ask them nicely."

"Is that what we're going to do?" Seamus blinked at her.

"Seamus, can you grab the orange box out of my bag?" She asked but didn't answer his question. Knowing Hermione was gearing up for a reveal, he did as he asked. Hermione set the box on the ground, about as big as a large tome. She opened the clasp and opened it; it was dark inside like it was bottomless. Just as Seamus was about to lean in, a furry orange ball of fur shimmied out.

"Crookshanks?"

"I couldn't bear to leave him," Hermione said, picking up her cat and furrowing her face in his unruly fur, "It was Padma's idea. She got to see Mr. Scamander's suitcase on display last year with her Care of Magical Creatures class; you know, the one that was like a whole zoo inside. And she worked with Dean to make this one. And once I got to reading and realized that this cave was tied to felines…I have a hunch," She said, "I moreso wonder how many of these are kneazles."

She set Crookshanks down, pointing him toward the cave, "Can you take us through, Crooks?" She asked, pointing ahead. Crookshanks purred, licking her hand before bounding over to a few of the other cats. Seamus was sure they were having a full conversation with each other, a litany of 'meows' passed between him and the gathered animals.

"Think they're givin' the way?" Seamus asked, but it was only half a joke.

"Or he's asking permission," Hermione whispered back.

After about twenty minutes of conversation, Crookshanks butted heads with one of the cats and trotted down into the darkness. Seamus was sure it was just going to drop off, but after a moment, Crookshanks popped back up with an inviting little 'rrr?'.

"I think that means 'follow me'," Hermione said, all too jovial. She was far too excited at the prospect of possible death, or ignoring it completely. Both were not promising thoughts. She ducked into the cave and then turned around, outstretching her hand, "Are you ready?"

Seamus would follow Hermione anywhere.

The idea of Hermione going to 'hell and back' for Seamus was now taking on a whole new meaning.

The cave was extremely tight; Seamus had never been prone to claustrophobia, but this might just kick it off. He could tell it was not going to be easy.

"Why should it?" Hermione asked, "If it was too easy, well…" She tapped a watch on her arm, "To keep track of time and days." She whipped her replacement wand, collecting a light on the end of it, before taking Seamus', still clutched in his fingers, and lighting his to.

He felt the familiar crawl of magic over his skin but knew not to hope. He reckoned any muggle could feel that this was unworldly too. Still, he felt settled being able to control the light in his hand, waving it around the caverns, though it didn't do much. The walls closed in on both of them quickly, and for the first time, Seamus was afraid.

If they died down here…well, they'd made damn sure that no one could follow them.

And that wasn't good.

This is for Nathair…he left this path for you… It didn't make him feel better, though, that if Nathair had gone here too…he hadn't come back.

Crookshanks was the best guide one could hope for, walking with purpose through the absolute darkness. He would go a little bit ahead and then wait patiently for the pair. Every time that Seamus was sure that there was no way they could fit through a crevice, they were able to wiggle through it, which at least gave him hope that they weren't the first.

The caverns seemed neverending. They quickly abandoned the space that was well-worn with years of traffic, or where most explorers ended. If these hikers had the good sense to turn around or Crookshanks was taking them through places that only the magic knew, Seamus couldn't be sure.

It mucked up his clothes nicely, however. He was pretty sure these would have to go straight into the bin once they were upside, no saving it. He felt more mud than human, his hands blackened with the earth and nicked by sharp stones as he clawed himself up cave walls into little winding places that turned and disappeared around shadowy corners.

It wasn't easy. He'd wondered if maybe they'd found the entrance too quickly, but now he knew that the trail came later. It was exhausting too; he'd never gone spelunking and he couldn't imagine finding a fancy for it after this. His arms were bloody tired, his legs ached, and he felt like every time he gulped air in, it was stale and moist.

Time felt meaningless. When Crookshanks curled up in a cavern, more open than before, Seamus felt like he could melt into the floor.

"Are we there?"

"No," Hermione said after a moment, glancing around, "I think we're meant to take a rest now."

That seemed to be the case. Once they slid down on the rocks, Crookshanks vanished to return with a rat, settling into a meal.

Seamus slumped against Hermione, equally as grimy as he was.

"How long has it been, Luv?"

Hermione rolled her sleeve up, "Twelve hours."

"That long?" Seamus choked, "Didn't feel it. I thought it was more like four hours!" Though, he could just be exaggerating his tiredness, unable to read time well.

"I am concerned about the way time comes and goes in places like this," Hermione said, biting her lip, "But I thought that I spelled this to be standard."

"If that's so, realistically, how long did we go for?"

"Well, it could be exactly as it says?" She rolled her nose, "I wasn't focusing on time, though."

He felt like he could fall asleep now, "Me either."

"We should eat and drink," Hermione said, fighting exhaustion, digging her wand into the ground and casting a wide, warm light around the space. She dug in her pack, pulling out a blanket magically spelled to keep the wearer warm at all times, "Glad I packed this."

"Oh, me too…" He blinked hard, fighting sleep, "Do you think this is a curse? Putting us to sleep?" He felt wired with anxiety, "That something will come out and…and eat us?"

Hermione was wetting rations, which expanded into warm, steaming meals in little tins, "No, otherwise Crookshanks would be panicked. I don't think this cavern would hurt a cat, and he's loyal to me."

"You sure?"

"Positive," Hermione said, nodding, "We're just tired, Sea," She ruffled his hair, "Eat."

Seamus took the tin from her hands, languishing at the warmth on his palms. Hermione took his left hand, looking at the little scars that crisscrossed his palms like yarn wound around his hand. She tutted, taking out a salve, using an undershirt, untouched by dirt, to rub it into his hands.

"You next," He said, mouth full of food. She wasn't without cuts either.

The salve stung, but before his eyes, the slivers vanished, revealing perfectly unblemished skin.

"Should we be using that on little stuff like this?"

"That's what it's meant for," She said, laying her palms upward, "It wouldn't work properly on big wounds, so…" She rolled her shoulders, "We might as well."

After they had both healed their small injuries, also rubbed the salve on some pulled muscles, and had eaten their meals, there was not much else to do but sleep. Not that either of them had the energy to catch up. Seamus wanted to ask Hermione to recount everything happening at Hogwarts, everything neither could say with owls, but exhaustion pulled his eyelids down like a blanket over his mind.

Hermione furrowed her forehead into the curve of his shoulder. He could feel her breath rising and falling against him, hot on his collarbone. The last thing Seamus acknowledged was her smell curling around him before he fell asleep.

And then they'd get up and do that again, and again, and again.

Hermione's watch told them that the days were passing, and Seamus did believe it, with how exhausted he was. The best he could muster was that his mind was hiding the true agonizing length that it was taking them, making it feel much shorter than it was, but even Hermione was flummoxed. Still, her watch was all they had to go on.

Crookshanks never seemed to slow down. He kept up a pace that was almost brutal but didn't tip to the point of being unbearable.

They finally reached a wide cavern, so long across that the edges fuzzed on Seamus' view as he stared. When he cupped his mouth and shouted, his voice lingered in the caverns for long after he dropped his hands, chasing him around the yawning space.

As they had all the days prior, they made their camp, ate their food, and fell asleep.

But when they woke the next day…Crookshanks didn't move at all.

"Is this it?" Hermione asked, spinning in a circle.

Crookshanks gave a pleased chirp. In their time together, Seamus was sure that Crookshanks understood everything that he and Hermione said.

"Where?" Seamus asked.

Crookshanks gave him a look, something almost annoyed.

"Are we…waiting for something?" He asked. He never felt like an animal could make him feel like the dumbest boy on the face of the earth.

Crookshanks waved his tail.

"Alright," He turned back to Hermione, "We're waiting."

Hermione was studying her watch with a furrowed brow, "For the Autumnal Equinox, I'd say," She said, "It matches up. It should be in oh…two days?"

"Two days…" Seamus counted back on his finger, "Hermione! You don't mean to tell me it's your birthday, is it?" He asked, a wide grin stretching across his face.

She blushed, "I wasn't going to bring attention to it," She said, shrugging.

"Not bring attention to it…you're an adult today!" Seamus said, "There couldn't be a bigger deal when it comes to birthdays. You should be as annoying as can be." He looked around, "And I don't have a present."

"Are you crazy?" Hermione was grinning too, "This is the best present anyone could give me."

"Being caked with dirt hundreds of kilometers under the earth, marching toward certain death?" Seamus asked.

"No, knowledge! Adventure! Paths uncrossed!" She tried to explain, "This might be the coolest thing I will ever do in my entire life, Seamus. And it's because of you."

"Yeah, well, be sure to thank Nathair, then, after I kill him for being a prat," Seamus chuckled, "Erm…now that we're waiting…can we try to clean ourselves off?"

He was almost embarrassingly aware of how he smelled. It wasn't great. Not that Hermione smelled like a flower either, but he'd accepted it since they hadn't the time to take care of it. Now that they were paused, he had never been so desperate for a bath.

"Please," Hermione agreed, nodding fiercely.

They managed to make a makeshift shower with the blanket, which Hermione spelled to repel water, and she pinned it magically against an overhang. Then, she dug her wand into the earth as a showerhead and produced soap from her bag.

"No…" Seamus shook his head, "Birthday girls first."

"You sure?" She asked, and then she looked at the water, steam rising over the curtain. It seemed she was inches away from asking him…something…but in the end gave a jerky nod, "I won't be long."

She disappeared behind the curtain and began folding her clothes neatly on a rock outside the water. As ideas of Hermione undressed behind there swarmed his mind, Seamus spun sharply on his heels. If he was cheekier, he may invite himself in, to save water. Which was a joke in itself, since it was magic and never-ending water, always warm if they wished it.

But this setting wasn't exactly…sexy. A cavern and a shoddy shower under the ground didn't scream romance. Trust him, Seamus felt very un-sexy with this much mud sealed against his skin.

Seamus kept Crookshanks company. He found a little string toy, and at first, Crookshanks looked at him with such disbelief and un-humored eyes that he almost abandoned it. But then, it's like he remembered he was allowed to have fun, and soon enough was jumping around trying to catch the stuffed cornish pixie at the end of the stick.

When Hermione re-emerged, she looked like a different person. He had almost grown used to their muddy faces so much that seeing her fresh-faced and smelling lightly of roses was staggering.

"It's heavenly," She said with a wry grin, passing off the kit to him.

The water was still hot when Seamus slipped beneath the curtain.

He didn't care about nicely folding his things…far as he knew, they were done for. He had thought it dumb that most of his pack was filled with spare clothes, but now he was glad. At this rate, he'd be adventuring starkers!

Seamus groaned as the water hit his bare skin and ran muddy rivers down his feet. Hermione had dragged a large flat rock to stand on, and the water magically vanished underneath it.

He stood in the spray for a while, just enjoying the sensation. He'd never take showering for granted ever again. As soon as his hands were soapy and clean, he began scrubbing his face and his hair as violently as he could, until they were almost tender to the touch.

As he was seriously focusing on cleaning the rest of himself, dirt in places he wasn't sure how it got there, he saw movement outside the curtain.

"Trying to catch a peek, Luv?" He called out, bubbly with a sense of glee, "You just have to ask!"

"No!" Hermione squeaked, "I mean, I…" He could hear her audibly swallowing, "It's just…I found something."

From her voice, it didn't seem like a small matter.

Seamus flung the curtain back, grasping for his clean clothes. He noticed Hermione's face flushed the shade of a sunset, but her eyes flickered toward him.

He was clean enough.

"What?" He asked, tugging a fresh shirt and teetering on his feet as he jumped into trousers.

"Follow me," She said, reaching around him and yanking her wand down, running across the cavern. He followed, his bare feet squishing against the soft dust like someone had come through and cleaned it of harmful sharp stones.

"Look!" She threw her arm out, stopping Seamus. He spun around.

"What am I looking for?" He craned his neck up, searching the cavern ceiling, but Hermione took his jaw and pointed it down.

"Look," She repeated, a quiet breath escaping her.

It was…a footprint.

Seamus dropped down to the floor, examining it, "Looks to be Nathair's size," He whispered, tilting his head, "But hard to say. It's not distinctive."

"Well, we're not the first ones here. And isn't that sort of a relief?" She asked. She reached out, almost touching it, but drew her hand back. Level with the ground, she frowned. Seamus got down to her level and his breath caught.

"More…"

More footsteps, intermingling with each other, one on top of the other, all converging in this area. Hermione waved her wand and a luminescent dust settled on the footsteps, lighting them up like they'd been printed in neon. The footsteps raced in front of them, up to a large flat rock.

"Is that it? The door?" Seamus asked, excitement pushing him to his feet. He raced along with the footsteps lighting in front of him, reaching it as the last one lit up. Hermione was seconds behind, watching as a wave of magic, as fresh as a summer's day, crashed against the rock.

"No…a guest book," She said with a strange choke of laughter, "Look!"

Initials rose up the rock, all the way to the tall ceiling. There weren't many, maybe a hundred or so. They gleamed in different colors; white, gray, green, blue, yellow, and red. Seamus brushed his fingers over one in front of his face; R.S. - 1806.

Wizards and witches, nameless, only carved names in the stone.

"Hogwarts houses, perhaps?" Hermione theorized, "And non-Hogwarts travelers?"

Seamus' finger was tracing letters though…and there, about a foot above him in shimmering green… N.F. - 1996.

"He was here…" Seamus whispered, not quite believing it himself, but the truth grew like joy in his heart, "He was here…he was here…" Each whisper was louder and louder until he was laughing and spinning around, punching the air, "Nathair was here!"

He turned to Hermione, grabbing her and hugging her. She was laughing too, tears on the edges of her eyes, giggling like she was hit with a hex and couldn't stop herself. It felt so filling; all they'd done had been on the right path. They were going to find him!

They ate their dinner sitting below the rock that night, eyes searching each name up there. They went far back, into the time before time really, as though this was where wizards and witches had always gone. It gave credence to Cormac's idea of old Wizard Quests, as there was quite a handful from earlier in Hogwart's history. Of particular interest were a green 'S.S' and a red 'G.G', in different shades than the rest.

"Slytherin and Gryffindor?" Hermione tilted her head.

"Well, Slytherin was Irish," Seamus shuddered, "Unfortunately."

"It must have been before they had their falling out…maybe they were our age," Hermione said with a soft, faraway grin.

There was also an 'A.P.W.B.D' in red with 1903, and next to an 'A.F' from 1903. There was certainly someone they knew with such a long initial who would also put all of them there.

"Something to ask Dumbledore about when we return!" Hermione said, blinking, "I mean, I shouldn't be surprised...Dumbledore has done everything."

Other than Nathair's signature, the most recent was a collection of four, a student from each house, which was surprising in itself.

They were together, in a collection, which told Seamus they'd traveled in a group here.

I.M. (red), P.S. (green), X.L. (blue), and R.F. (yellow) from 1973.

"Maybe it was a group project?" Hermione theorized, "A very dangerous group project…"

Not that Hogwarts was above assigning deadly tasks to students…If they were students at all. They could be adults, for all he and Hermione knew. It said the date they arrived, not the age they were upon finding the stone.

Seamus clicked his tongue, staring at it, "I feel like I know one of those…but I just can't place it."

Once they finished their meal, Hermione raised her wand to the stone, "We need to put ours," She said impishly, "It's tradition."

She placed her wand on the stone and began dragging it down. The stone crumbled away to make the two initials; H.G. and S.F. - 1996.

When she was done, they both glowed red.

"Woah! How'd it do that?" Seamus asked, relief bubbling inside of him. Somewhere, some greater magic still saw him as Gryffindor. That had to be a good sign, right?

"Well," Hermione shrugged, "Magic."

"Don't you want to know? You want to know everything."

Hermione sheathed her wand, "I've accepted we're past the point of logical explanations."

Then, they celebrated Hermine's birthday with a chocolate bar. It was a poor excuse, but best they could do. They parked their camp in front of the rock, both drawn in by the intoxicating magic wafting off of it, as warm as home and as comforting as your favorite meal on a cold day.

After, they curled up, talking into the wee hours of the night (or day? It was hard to tell), filling their time with stories they didn't have time to share before, bodies interlaced underneath the dried-off blanket.

They awoke to Crookshanks making a fuss. He was pacing around them in circles, meowing his little fool head off.

"What's it?" Seamus asked groggily swatting at him, "C'mon, back to sleep you furball…"

But Crookshanks would not relent. He sat on Seamus' face, screaming into his ear until Seamus was fully awake.

"Alright, alright, Merlin!"

He rubbed his eyes, sitting up and giving a wide yawn and a full-body stretch. He felt better rested than he had since they began…since he'd lost his magic…since before the Battle of Mysteries! Come to think of it, Seamus wasn't sure the last time he'd had a satisfying night's sleep…maybe fourth year?

The thought would be funny if it wasn't sad.

But last night had been heavenly. He'd felt protected like this stone would ward off danger. There was something that grasped at his heartstrings to know he was hardly the first wizard on this quest. In some ways, he could almost reach out to the spirits of the past in front of him, of eager adventurers and scholars coming this same way.

Blue fizzed on the edge of his vision.

Seamus was wide awake now.

"Hermione!" He grasped her shoulders, shaking her, "Hermione, wake up!"

She mumbled nonsensical arguments in her sleep, but he didn't stop.

"What is it?" She groaned, her hair sticking out every which way.

"Hermione…look."

She blinked twice, still half-asleep, following Seamus' extended finger.

She was wide awake within seconds as well.

In front of them, where the dusty cavern had once been, was now a lake…as deep as the night sky and as wide as either could see.