“Hermione…” Harry said quietly, sliding in beside her at breakfast.

It had been a month since they returned to school, a month of Hermione skirting Ron in the common room and in classes. A month of her skin crawling every time she saw his smug face – well… whenever it wasn’t attached to Lavender Brown’s.

A month of arguing with Draco and Theo over a bottle of poisoned mead that they had sent to Slughorn in the hopes of him gifting it to Dumbledore before Blaise finally told Hermione to give it a rest. What was done was done, now they just needed to wait.

Part of Hermione had wished they hadn’t wiped Ron’s memory. The other part of her wished she had killed him. But when she looked at Harry, she could see all the reasons why they had chosen the path they did.

Harry needed Ron – needed him more than ever now that Sirius was gone. Needed him for the hardships yet to come. Though she may have betrayed him for the greater good, she could not deny her friend that comfort. Especially after all he was learning in his “private lessons” with Dumbledore about the rise of the Dark Lord.

So Ron continued to breathe.

“Hermione,” Harry said again, trying to pull her focus back to him.

She blinked, shaking her head slightly.

“Sorry, Harry. What was that?” she said, marking her place in the text she wasn’t reading.

“I wanted to know how long you’re going to avoid Ron for,” Harry said a little impatiently.

She stilled.

“What do you mean?” she asked slowly, her eyes flicking to where Ron sat a few seats down. She couldn’t tell if he was kissing Lavender or slowly eating her face.

“You’ve been avoiding him for a month and I want to know when you’re going to give it a rest. The bloke’s a free agent – he’s allowed to kiss whoever he wants,” Harry said.

Anger flared inside her, hot and sticky, clinging to the cavern of her heart and letting warmth spread across her skin.

“That is not the reason I’m avoiding him,” she seethed, her eyes flashing.

Harry blinked, surprised by her reaction.

“Why are you then?”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes and Harry’s expression melted into concern as he took in the haunted look in her eye. He reached, placing a hand over hers.

“What happened, Mione? You know you can tell me…” he said softly, his thumb stroking the back of her hand.

She looked down, noticing the scar across his hand that shimmered in the morning light.

I must not tell lies.

“I can’t, Harry,” she answered, her breath hitching.

“Why not? You’re my best friend.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. Shaking her head, she swiped her eyes with her fingertips.

“No, Harry. No, I’m not. Ron is your best friend.”

Harry’s brows furrowed as he shook his head.

“You’re both my best friends,” he said seriously. “Tell me what’s wrong, Hermione. Tell me what’s happened.”

Hermione took a deep breath, then let it go in a gust.

“If I do that then everything changes,” she said quickly. “If I do that, you might not even believe me. It’s better this way, Harry, trust me.”

Harry looked at her for a long moment and she thought she could see the boy she’d met on the train in first year. Thought she could see the boy he wanted to be – carefree and unburdened. And she knew the moment he made the choice to believe her. To choose this one easy path.

“Whatever he did… I’m sure he didn’t mean it. You know how Ron is.”

Hermione laughed. She couldn’t help it. She laughed and laughed. She laughed until tears burst from her crinkled eyes, laughed until her breath caught and she wasn’t sure if she was even laughing anymore.

“Oh Harry,” she sighed, wiping at her eyes. “He had never meant anything more in his entire life.”

…

After that, Harry didn’t bring Ron up again.

He did, however, bring up Draco and how he thought he was up to something.

Draco’s mission began to weigh on him more and more to the point where sometimes she felt like she didn’t recognize him. After the holidays Draco had spent more than one sleepless night trying to figure out how best to defeat Dumbledore until the dark circles under his eyes looked like permanent fixtures.

Hermione had told him over and over to let her in – to let her share the burden, but he would only shake his head.

“This is my mission, love. He gave it to me. I have to be the one,” he would reply in a tired voice.

Almost every chance Harry got, he spied on Draco using the marauder’s map, which made Hermione incredibly anxious. At any moment you could see Harry with his face pressed against the yellowed pages. Well… at least when he wasn’t reading his graffitied copy of Advanced Potion Making . When she found out, she told Draco via the two-way journal that their nightly study time with the rest of their friends couldn’t continue. It was Theo, however, who just suggested they move it to the room of requirement, as Hermione had mentioned to him in the past that it didn’t show up on the map.

So now, almost every night, they had the room transform into a cozy common room where they could study and relax with one another.

Ginny and Luna came with Theo and Pansy more often than not. It made Hermione happy to see her friends so happy, even if she could see the tension around Ginny’s eyes. She had been doing her part, making Harry think she was interested. She had distracted him a few times when he had been on the brink of catching Hermione coming in late or slightly mussed from a night with Draco.

Hermione had told Draco quietly that they needed to find a way to repay Ginny for her loyalty after it was all over. Once everyone was safe and happy and the war had ended.

She hoped, against all hope, that they would all make it through.

But one afternoon, in late Spring, she wasn’t sure if that hope might be futile.

She and Ginny were sitting in the common room studying by the fire. Ginny had asked Hermione for revision help and since Theo and Blaise had detention and Draco insisted he wanted some time alone to think about his mission for Dumbledore, Hermione had agreed to stay in the common room for once.

A half hour or so after she watched Harry leave the tower, hastily folding the map and slipping it into his back pocket, something felt wrong.

Her magic tugged at her, like an anxious finger tapping against her heart. She stilled, her head shooting up and her eyes distant as she looked at the portrait hole.

“Mione…?” Ginny said softly, placing a hand over her arm.

“Something’s wrong…” she said, her voice dark.

Ginny shifted, her eyes darting between Hermione and the portrait hole.

“What’s wrong… what do you mean?”

The tugging grew stronger, dread pooling thick in the pit of her stomach. Something dark drawing closer. Without thinking, Hermione stood, the parchment and book on her lap tumbling to the floor.

“Something’s happened… I have to… I have to…” Panic increased with each word, with each breath. “I have to go.”

Ginny reached, grabbing for the discarded items on the floor.

“Go, I’ll cover for you here.”

Without another word Hermione tore through the portrait hole, her magic pulling her towards a bathroom on the sixth floor. Her heart thrummed in her veins, in the crooks of her arms, her breath coming in quick pants.

She skidded to a halt in front of a girl’s lavatory. Water was slowly seeping through the crack in the door, making the stones shiny and wet but tinged with a strange color. Without hesitating she threw it open, a scream tearing from her chest.