A/N: This is Beater 2 of the QLFC checking in for Round 7.

Prompts: 2. Raindrop and 11. Special.

This is all J.K.'s world. I own nothing.

"Harry!" Hermione called. "Harry, we're going for—"

Her voice trailed off so only Ron could hear her finish. "Supplies."

"He's still in there?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "He won't talk to me."

She placed her bag on the table. Ron heard a few of her books topple over and waited for her to reorganize them. Instead, she huffed, her eyes downcast, glazing over.

Ron tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder. "Look, Hermione, he's just—he's got a lot on his plate, right? He's found something to believe in, and knowing Harry, he's gonna hang on to it until he figures it out."

Hermione only shrugged him off. "The Deathly Hallows are not a healthy obsession, Ron."

"Neither was Malfoy," Ron muttered. Hermione's bushy curls shook, and he worried he might have hit another nerve with her. For the past few days, she had been completely on edge. Ever since they had left Xenophilius Lovegood's home, Hermione was on a short fuse. Harry on an even shorter one. Ron was doing his best to keep them from going at each other's—or his own—throats.

Hermione turned around, the small hint of a smile on her face. "When did you become so wise?"

"All those weeks away from you. I had plenty of time to reflect," he tried to keep eye contact with her , but guilt weighed on him and he had to break his stare.

Hermione picked up the bag. "Let's, um, let's get going."

Ron pocketed the flask from the table and followed her out of the tent and into the rain. Harry was seated underneath a canopy Hermione had fastened the night before when they set up camp. It had been raining for days, which did not help their situation. In fact, it only seemed to continue to push them to extremes. Harry was hell-bent on believing the Hallows were the answer. Hermione was hell-bent on proving him wrong—or maybe she was just trying to show she was right. Again. Either way, Ron felt caught in a patch of Devil's Snare.

Or the branches of the Whomping Willow.

Hermione turned to Harry, whose face was buried in that Skeeter's dumb book. She opened her mouth but thought against speaking. Instead, she turned promptly on her heel and walked in the direction towards town.

"Hey," Ron shook his head, raindrops dripping from his red hair. Luckily it was only a light drizzle, which meant that the walk into town should be relatively dry underneath the trees. "Harry?"

He looked up. Ron sighed; his best friend was wasting away before his eyes. There were dark circle under Harry's eyes, his hair was more unkempt than ever, and he was losing weight. Ron wanted to shake some sense into him, make him sleep and eat, and maybe, just maybe, take a small break from all this Hallows and Horcrux business.

"We're running low on food. Me and Hermione are gonna get some supplies."

Harry nodded and turned right back to his book. It reminded Ron of Hermione for a moment, and he had to stifle his laugh. That was the last thing he needed to explain.

Ron had to jog to catch up to Hermione, who was muttering to herself. When he caught up with her, she sighed. "He's going to kill himself without ever seeing You-Know-Who. Why can't he see that what he's doing is absolute insanity? He's obsessing over, over ridiculous things!"

She threw her hands up. Ron tried not to laugh, but it was too much. She was absolutely beautiful sometimes. He felt his cheeks start to turn pink. Hermione's glare quickly shut him up. "What?"

"You think this is funny? You think Harry killing himself over Hallows instead of strategizing with us and—"

"Hermione, relax. I was only laughing because…"

She stopped. "Because what?"

"You were, well, um," Ron cleared his throat. "You're funny when you're upset."

"Funny?" She looked indignant. Ron gulped.

"I mean, what I meant was that, oh Hermione! Could you please try not to read into things too much?"

"I don't read into—"

"Yes, you do." Ron grabbed Hermione's sleeve and pulled them both to a stop. They were near the edge of the woods. Soon they would be out in the open, walking down a small path nestled in a hill. The town they were approaching was a tiny Muggle neighborhood called Airen, where any outsider would be noticed. At least, Hermione thought so. "It's a compliment, just leave it at that. Alright?"

Ron looked into her eyes, and he could see her icy resolve falter for a moment. He felt her shoulders relax, and he smiled. Hermione, however, stuck to business. She still wasn't thrilled with him, he knew, however Ron felt things were getting better.

She still hadn't smiled fully at him, though, and Ron was determined to change that. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was out there, Harry and everyone he loved was in danger, and Ron was sure as hell not to go down fighting without making Hermione smile one last time.

"You have the potion?" Hermione's hand was waiting. Ron placed the flask in her hand and she pulled out two cups from her bag. "Cheers."

Ron poured the Polyjuice Potion into each cup. A single strand of hair which Hermione had swiped from the last town they were in, rested at the bottom of each.

They quickly drank the potion, each bubbling into a new person. When Hermione cleared up everything, Ron got a good look at her. Short blonde hair, green eyes, about six inches shorter. Probably around 23 or 24 years of age.

"Ready?" she asked. Then she stepped out into the drizzling rain.

They weren't soaked through by the time they got to the small shopping center, but Ron picked up a towel to buy anyways. Hermione was picking out only the essentials: cans of vegetables, some bread, and milk. She was adamant on that last one, talking about strong teeth. Something wacky her mother taught her or something of the like. Ron was only half listening. Ever since they had entered the store, there were two guys in the corner watching them.

At least, they looked like they were watching. The one was a tall guy, skinny, wearing a blue jacket and jeans. He had short hair and large, red cheeks. The other guy was much smaller, stockier, dressed in a purple rain coat. He kept adjusting his shoulders, making a rustling noise with every movement.

Ron leaned down toward Hermione's ear. "Have you noticed those two—"

"I've noticed." Hermione whispered through her teeth. Ron saw she was looking up at them every so often between reading ingredient lists on jars. "The thing is, they don't look like the wizarding type."

"What's the wizarding type?"

"I don't know," Hermione moved to another shelf filled with colorful jars. "Wizarding types have a certain stance in the Muggle world. Especially Snatchers. They wouldn't be this… territorial."

"Territorial?" Ron asked.

"They look like they own the place," she hissed out, placing down a red jar filled with raspberry preserves. That was when they made their move.

"Oi," the one in the blue said, "whaddya think you're doing here again?"

Ron fingered his wand, waiting for the moment he'd need it.

"Again?" Hermione asked. Ron looked over to her. She wasn't reaching for anything. In fact, her arms were at her side. "What do you mean by 'again?'"

Rain Coat began sauntering over. "Why don't ya ask your boyfriend here, sweetheart."

"I'm not your sweetheart, and I don't understand what you are taking about," she retorted. Ron felt his face heat up; she didn't deny the boyfriend part.

Instinctively, Ron took a step in between Hermione and the guys who were inching their way closer.

"You shouldn't be here after the things you pulled, Fetter," Rain Coat said.

"Fetter?" Ron asked.

"Don't play stupid. You robbed this place blind two months ago! Poor Addie had to sell her car to make up the difference." Blue Jacket this time.

"I didn't rob anyone," Ron interjected. He looked over to the counter where a little old woman was staring at the scene unfolding around them. He looked around and realized they were the only five people in the store now. Turning around, he could tell Hermione noticed it too.

Panic was rising in her eyes. Ron turned back to the two blokes who were right in front of his face. Now, Ron realized, whoever's face he had taken on was much shorter than he was. The shorter one was towering over Ron about five inches.

A piece of paper was thrust into his face. On it was a picture of a pale brunette. He had moles all over his face and a mustache. Behind him, he heard Hermione gasp. Ron looked; her tiny little hands were pressed against her too-pink mouth.

"What?" Ron asked.

She looked up at him, her eyes analyzing his face. It's the only part of her that was still completely Hermione. Everything else screamed stranger.

"Boy, do we have something special saved for you," Blue Jacket snickered. He smelled like fried eggs. Ron took a step back, but it didn't matter. Both boys had their hands on him faster than Ron could pull out his wand.

Hermione let out a small yell before hitting first Blue Jacket and then Rain Coat with the Confundus Charm. Ron felt both of them let go.

"Come on, Ron!" Hermione grabbed his arm and rushed toward the door. They both ran all the way back to the edge of the woods, despite the pouring rain. When they were safely under the canopy of the trees, Ron turned to see Hermione, the real Hermione, popping through her disguise.

"Of all the hairs I could have possibly grabbed," Hermione placed a hand on her stomach, "I picked a convict!" Then he heard it; her beautiful laugh.

"What is it?" he smiled.

"It's amazing," she giggled, "how life just goes on for these people."

"Yeah," Ron nodded, not really getting it. "I mean, I suppose, that, yeah. Our biggest concern is the end of the world as we know it, and they—"

"They're worried about some petty thief. I wonder how Bonnie and Clyde ever managed," Hermione was drying herself with her wand now, her laughter fading.

Ron gave her a look. "Who?"

"Don't worry about it." She smiled at him. It wasn't exactly what Ron wanted, but he took it as progress. "I slipped the woman the last of our Muggle money."

"What?" Ron asked. "Why?!"

"Because to them, we looked like the people who destroyed the store clerk's life! Besides, there wasn't much left anyways."

"It's fine. Maybe next time we'll stick to the Cloak."

"There's a reason I didn't ask for it," Hermione muttered.

"I know." Ron sighed. "Believe me, I know." Bringing up the Cloak would mean bringing up the Hallows, and that argument was exhausted. It wasn't over, but it was definitely exhausted between the three of them.

They walked back to the tent, talking about little things, like classes they missed or childhood hobbies. Safe things. Anything to forget about the impending war, You-Know-Who, and Hallows.

"Once again," Ron said, "Polyjuice Potion turned out to be more trouble than it was worth."

"Agreed," Hermione smiled up at him. "At least we're back to normal now."

Ron took that last moment alone with Hermione and burned it into his memory. He was determined to keep her smiling. Always.