evercleverest: (looking for hope)
[personal profile] evercleverest
[ooc: set to some point during Deathly Hallows, ch. 22]



Harry has been worrying her for quite a number of days now.

It isn't that his health is depleting (though there is that, too - but they're all exhausted, the three of them), or that he's begun to isolate himself from her and Ron.

It's the Deathly Hallows.

('But don't you see? It all fits -'

'No, it doesn't,' she says.
'It
doesn't, Harry, you're just getting carried away. Please. Please - just answer me this.
If the Deathly Hallows really existed, and Dumbledore knew about them,
knew that the person who possessed all three of them would be master of Death -
Harry,
why wouldn't he have told you? Why?')



The constant theories, the discussions, the possibilities, the scary, unstoppable hope that comes from his lips -

She's tried - both her and Ron - to bring him back, make him see the truth, to dissipate the idea that these Hallows are what's stopping them from a victory over You-Know-Who.

She's afraid they're losing him.

-

She waits for a door to appear, waits for something sometimes, but then she shakes it off, focuses on the situation at hand -


- and tries to forget the fact that Milliways to her (a beacon of hope, a possibility, a wish) isn't all that much unlike Harry's own desires for the Deathly Hallows to appear and save them all.

-

One evening, when Harry is fast asleep in the tent and it's Ron's turn to take watch, she awakes from a nightmare.

It's nothing unusual, nothing she hasn't dreamt before (or woken up from before), but suddenly all her worries and fears are spilling over the brim of her already full cup, and she can't get back to sleep.

She steps outside and is immediately greeted by the brisk chill of the early-hours air. She finds Ron half-dozing and gently touches his arm.

Date: 2010-10-08 01:41 pm (UTC)
humourandheart: (well... that's completely off the point)
From: [personal profile] humourandheart
Ron, more tired than he had let on, doesn't bother to stifle his yawn. She has already caught him, after all.

"Unbelievable," he grumbles, though certainly with more approval than complaint, "Not wasting any time settling into that role, are you? Give a girl a badge..."

He shakes his head and clambers to his feet.

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Hermione Granger

September 2010

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