It Could Be Worse by padfoot_puppyeyes

Rating: PG
Genres: Drama, Humor
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 29/09/2005
Last Updated: 29/09/2005
Status: Completed

The Golden Trio is freezing, tired, and somewhere in Russia. But it could be worse. This is a
ONESHOT!!! There could be romance if you want to look at it that way- I leave your imaginations to
it. But mostly it's just a friendship fic. Review!




1. Keeping Warm
---------------



**It Could Be Worse/Keeping Warm**

Just before you freeze to death, you feel like you're warm, almost hot. You're past the
point of being numb, and you're unable to move, but that warmth is welcome, even if it means
your death, after such a long time of being cold.

With this fact Hermione reminded Ron, (and herself, though she'd never admit it,) that they
were not, in fact, going to freeze to death. Every time she said it, both of the shivering boys on
either side of her turned to glare.

The golden trio was shivering, blue-lipped, runny-nosed and somewhere in Russia. Yes, in the
winter. In the snow. With the freezing temperatures and the dangerous storms.

Harry had insisted that they continue to search for Ravenclaw's item, and despite the
weather Ron and Hermione hadn't hesitated to agree, for two reasons. The first was that every
day, more people around the world were dying because of Voldemort. The sooner they could destroy to
horcruxes, the more people they could save.

The second was that they knew Harry would go anyway, whether they agreed to follow of not. And
there was no way they were letting him go alone.

Still, that didn't mean that they couldn't complain about it.

“It couldn't be in Australia somewhere, or perhaps hidden in some cove near a warm beach.”
Ron grumbled under his breath from her left. “No, it had to be hidden somewhere in the bloody
cold.” Hermione would have scolded him for her language, but she would have just received a dirty
look. Besides, this time, she had to agree with him.

“Where are we anyway?” Ron asked her, his eyes squinted against the glare from the snow that
covered the ground miles around them. Hermione stopped trudging through the thick, shin-high
blanket of snow and dug through her pack, trying to consult a map. With a few murmured charms
showing them where they were, she quickly saw that they had been going much too far West and were
now-

“In the middle of absolutely nowhere.” The map showed nothing but miles and miles of empty
land.

“You mean…there's no cities nearby?” Harry asked, rubbing his hands together to keep warm.
“Not even a small town?”

“None on the map.” Hermione replied, folding the parchment up as quickly as she could with stiff
fingers.

“Not surprising.” Ron muttered, taking in their surroundings. “Who would want to live here?” He
shivered again and burrowed deeper into his heavy cloak, still shaking. His face was almost as
white as the snow around them, with the exception of his chapped lips and bright red cheeks. Harry
looked similar, with the main difference being that his lips didn't have strips of skin falling
off of them because he kept charming them to prevent such things. Hermione felt a small pang of
pity for Ron, who had blood running down his chin from one of the cracks on his lower lip.
Ron's lips had dried out before she and Harry had visited the Russian Ministry, and they
hadn't known the charm in time to keep it from happening.

“Well, we have to find somewhere to rest.” Hermione declared, coming to a decision when she
could swear she saw that thin trail of blood on Ron's face freeze. “We need to warm up. We
won't be useful if we're dead.”

“But Hermione, I thought we weren't going to freeze to death, remember?” Ron teased, smiling
slightly at the thought of taking a break. The small grin opened another gash in his lip, and made
Hermione smile slightly too.

“I said we won't freeze to death, and we won't. But do you really think we'll be
able to do any magic like this?” She knew she had made her point when even Harry, the most
determined of the three of them, reluctantly agreed with her. They were just to tired, cold, and
hurt to keep going without rest.

“All right, we can take a break for the night. I don't see any good shelter nearby, so
we'll have to spell some of this snow away and put up that tent. Ron, can you start putting the
tent together? Hermione, I need you to start up some sort of fire and food.” Setting up camp had
become routine over the course of the last several months, and Ron and Hermione had already started
on their jobs while Harry was casting several charms around the area to act as wards.

When the tent had been set up and the blankets brought out, all three were curled up in front of
the fire, trying to keep warm. Their tent wasn't the luxury wizarding tent that Mr. Weasley had
pitched for them during the World Cup; no, this had three small rooms and strong walls, along with
a little furniture. Plumbing and a heating system weren't added features, because they had
believed that such a big tent could attract some unwanted attention. It was best to stick to the
basics.

“I'm still freezing.” Ron grumbled.

“It could be worse.” Hermione pointed out casually, knowing the reaction this would cause. “At
least it's not-“ Both boys quickly leaned over and covered her mouth before she could finish
the sentence. Regardless, snow began to slowly fall down around them.

“Snowing.” She finished as both boys shook their heads and let her go.

“Nice, Hermione. Way to go. We're cold enough already!” Harry whined, the twinkle in his
eyes showing that he was more amused than annoyed.

Hermione smirked back at him, already knowing her comeback. “It could be worse. At least
it's not-“ At the panicked look the two boys shot at her, and then at each other, she started
laughing too hard to finish the sentence.

When all three had finally calmed down, they were staring at the fire in silence again.
“Harry…what exactly are we looking for again?” Ron asked, frowning into the fire. Harry ran a hand
through his messy hair making it stand up even more than it had been.

“Regulus must have taken the locket before he died. He's RAB…he has to be. So it stands to
reason that since Regulus was working against Voldemort, because he wouldn't have left a note
to taunt Voldemort with otherwise. But I'm sure Dumbledore would've told Sirius, or Sirius
would've found out if his little brother was really a spy for the Order, so Regulus must've
been working for somebody else. The only other person at that time who had followers and power was
Seigneur Sombre.” **(AN-Stands for `Dark Lord' in Russian)** Ron raised one eyebrow, and
Harry merely shrugged in reply. “I dunno. Why does Voldemort call himself Voldemort? Dark Lords are
weird that way.”

When Ron merely nodded in complete agreement, Hermione smothered her laughter. It was hard to
believe that just six months ago Ron had feared that name, and now he was helping Harry make fun of
it. He'd really grown up since they'd left school.

Then again, she thought as she sobered, loosing a father and older brother might do that to
you.

Pushing away the memories of Mr. Weasley and Charlie's deaths, Hermione focused instead on
the conversation. “So now we're looking for RAB?” Ron was asking.

“No.” Hermione sighed, poking at the fire. “RAB was Sirius's little brother, Regulus, and
he's been dead for years. We're looking for RAB's master.”

“Why haven't we ever heard of this guy, anyway?” Ron asked.

“We did, in History of Magic. Years ago. If you'd been paying attention…” Both Harry and Ron
managed to look guilty for all of three seconds before their faces split into grins, Ron's
muted slightly by his torn lips. “And he didn't get nearly as powerful as Voldemort, and he
didn't really have very much to do with England, so we just skimmed it. But Seigneur Sombre
should be locked up in a prison somewhere near here…It's like our Azkaban.”

“They put a nutter like that in prison?” Ron asked, rolling his eyes.

“I already said, he wasn't as strong or as threatening as Voldemort. Anyways, the ministry
gave us permission to question the guy, but…I think we're lost.”

“No shit Sherlock.” Ron muttered sarcastically under his breath. It wasn't quiet enough.
“Ouch! Hermione!”

“Language.” She scolded, satisfied with the red mark her slap had left.

They continued to banter like this for a while, occasionally wondering allowed how their
families were doing and what was happening at home. They were still cold, and their clothes were
still stiff, damp, and gritty. Ron's lips were still cracked, despite all of the chapstick he
had applied since they had set up the tent. Hermione was still shivering, and still achy, and still
tired, and Harry was still pale, still worried, and still sore.

But they were together. They had food in their stomachs, and cider in the hipflasks Mrs. Weasley
had given them, and a fire to warm them up.

Sure, they were still cold. And yes, they still had a long way to go. But when Hermione pulled
the blanket around her tighter, and felt both of her best friends right next to her, she
reflected.

“Aw, bollocks. I'm still cold!” Hermione's lips curved up into a small smirk.

“It could be worse.” She met grinned at Ron's stricken expression, and then turned to see if
Harry's face was just as comical. Instead, she found a slight smile on his face and a soft look
in his eyes.

“Yeah, it could be.”

And suddenly, for the first time in what seemed like years, Hermione felt warm.

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