A/N: This is my first-ever fic, so please don't judge me too harshly by the first few chapters. I think I'm getting better as I go along. Please review if you have any thoughts or you like it. It's great to hear from you fellow readers!

Harry watched dispassionately as the tent flap fluttered shut. His supposed best friend of 7 years had just deserted him and Hermione during a their hunt for Horcruxes. Harry knew he should feel rage boiling over inside, but he honestly wasn't surprised enough. Ron had proven a fair-weather friend before and had been running away from tough situations for years.

Hermione sunk down onto the tent floor in grief. He could see her eyes squeezed shut and her brown wavy hair move with each sob. She looked so shattered, with her legs twisted uncomfortably on the stair, and her arms and wrist pressed together rocking toward her face.

He shook his head angrily and ran his hand through his hair. They would have to leave, now. If Ron managed to get himself caught by the snatchers, the two left behind would be in danger. They couldn't even afford a small risk when the freedom of the Wizarding world, and otherwise, were in the balance.

He walked quietly over to his rucksack and started packing with wandless magic. That bloody immature git, Harry thought. Not what he had signed up for? Well, this wasn't a field trip with an itinerary and a neatly packaged practical lesson at the end on defeating Voldy. What a joke, Harry thought.

Through practice Harry had progressed to the point where he could pack half of the tent without getting tired. This time he concentrated on not making any noise, which was doubly hard in his anger. He didn't want to disturb Hermione until he was ready to go.

In a few minutes everything was completed short of taking the tent down, he walked around to in front of where she was slumped on the stairs. Harry knelt down to her and felt anguish in his chest when she looked up.

"'Mione, we need to go," he said steadily but softly.

"I know," she said resolutely.

He held out his hand and she took it unsteadily, using rather more support from him than usual.

She followed him out of the tent, arms wrapped around her protecting her from the cold and sorrow. A moment later, Harry held out his hand, and the world flashed in front of her eyes.

They were on the continent. Somewhere a bit warmer and out of the way. Somewhere they didn't need to take turns doing watches behind wards.

Harry sat in front of the fire, throwing on small pieces of their dinner's packaging and watching sparks spit back at him. He could hear the wind outside the tent, absently noting he had grown to find the once impartially cruel sound relaxing. Hermione finished drying the last dish, something she did by hand because she said it calmed her. When she finished, she came to his side by their smokeless fire.

"I didn't think he'd leave," Hermione said heavily, breaking the silence.

The last thing Harry wanted to talk about was Ron. Annoyance rose up in him, but he knew she needed to talk. It didn't help to have Hermione stressed right now. For the sake of their mission, and her, she had to stop being affected by Ron's actions. He had always wondered how she could be so blind about Ron. They were such opposites and the couple puzzled him from the beginning.

He lifted the Horcrux gently off his neck in preparation to speak with her calmly. He placed the necklace on the table next to him and turned toward her chair, taking her hands in his and careful to hold her gaze.

"Hermione, Ron isn't coming back. He is gone. I know you love him, but even you know that he has been doing this to us for ages. The Tri-wizard Tournament, Lavender, Krum and the Yule Ball, my captainship... This is hardly new behavior from him." Harry carefully hid his resentment.

"But I thought this time, now that it was life or death..."

"I'm not sure Ron is even capable of taking things seriously," Harry said. He noticed Hermione's hand was warm in his newly sweaty ones, and dropped her fingers with an awkward squeeze. His heart lurched a little when he did that. He wanted to grab her soft hands again.

"Yes, but that's how he deals with things."

"He deals by complaining that I don't know what I'm doing? Of course I don't know what I'm doing. That's the bloody point! If I did know what I was doing, he could spend the year with me in a penthouse overlooking the Themes because this war would be over!"

"I know, I'm sorry he's been complaining, and about the food.. I've been trying to tell him to stop it, honestly."

"I know, your voices carried through the tent while I was on my watches."

Fresh tears leaked from Hermione's eyes. Harry closed his momentarily, thinking, wishing he could find a way to make her see that she was blind about Ron. Hermione was strong though, she would be all right soon, and that would have to be good enough. They were far away from any reasonable risk of being found here, and he could pick up the slack for her for a while.

"Every hour we sit here while I loose time over that git, more people are dying," she sobbed. "I need to pull myself together. I can't believe the selfishnes of him!" Her voice sounded stronger and more angry.

Ron didn't belong here. It was true, he had been acting like an entitled kid and Harry was personally glad to be shut of him. But he couldn't say that now.

"Hermione, you are an amazing, beautiful woman, and you deserve much better than the way he treated you." She looked up into his eyes for the first time in minutes, and his heart made a slight pang.

Harry looked back into the fireplace. In a moment, the wireless on the mantle caught his eye and an idea occurred to him. He gestured wandlessly toward the device and a slow-time dance rhythm filled the air with it's happy, nostalgic quality. He stood up, lifting her hand as he rose. She hesitated but rose to meet him, her feet concrete blocks on the floor.

'..Somewhere, beyond the sea, somewhere, waiting for me..' the wireless began in a happy, swinging rhythm.

He swept her into step with him and gradually moved with her to the center of the room.

'.. my lover stands on golden sand, and watches the ships that go sailin'..' the faint echo of distance in the sound faded away, and he was lost with her into the music.

He spun her away softly and then his hand found it's way back to the spot on her back where his hand had already warmed her. Her smile brightened a little when he started swaying them in an exaggerated side-to-side motion. Her eyes were glistening slightly, and the firelight made her hair a deeper and richer shade of brown. Harry tried not to look too much at her face, but he couldn't help himself.

He spun her away and let go of her hand. He took a few steps back and then advance to collect her, swaying his hips more than was strictly prescribed by the dance she watched him.

Hermione's eyes had flicked down to his well-toned chest during that last move, and a fleeting question distracted him: what if Hermione found him attractive?

He paced out fun steps with as much charisma as he could muster, leading her in the steps of their waltz. A moment later he overdid his arm motions to bend her backwards and she burst out laughing. By this time, Harry was beaming.

When the song finally stopped, they dropped back into the seats by the fire.

"Thank you Harry," she said, breathing heavily and leaning her head onto his shoulder.

He closed his eyes, allowing himself to place his head over hers.

He could feel her knees pressing into the side of his leg, and he was still holding her hand. In that moment he realized two things, his feelings for her were very strong, and she was vulnerable.

He caught her eyes and held them for a moment too long, uncomfortable, he said the first thing on his mind, "Hermione, what are you thinking?"

"I– was just remembering when you first told me you had been practicing in empty class rooms. And about the time Ron was on watch right after we escaped the wedding.. You, you're a really great man, Harry. Thank you."

Harry remembered as she spoke. The look of admiration on her face, and her comforting hand on his knee, and her voice reassuring him that they were ready after they had escaped with their lives. Harry noticed her eyes were almost pleading with something that wasn't quite sadness. That look was deliciously unbearable. He tore his gaze away out of obligation.

"You are amazing too, Hermione." And after a moment, "Hermione, what are we doing?" he breathed. He wanted to hold her, to possess her, to ravish her and melt into her all at the same time. His Hermione, his best friend. It became a soft ache in his chest. "We need to protect you, I need you to be strong for me, for everything," he whispered. The moment felt too sacred for louder talking.

"I don't know, but maybe–" she said, breifly honoring the spell of the moment with her voice but lifting her head away from his. After a moment, she sighed and half-smiled. "Of course.. it's comforting to have you near me," she explained. "Human need for connection during times of stress.."

He squeezed the arm that was around his best friend, pulling her shoulder into his chest. Then he stood up his fingers finding his hair already mussed as he walked toward the kitchenette in the corner. He grabbed a drink of water. If this were just him and Hermione on holiday, maybe he wouldn't restrain himself so much, but this was him and Hermione alone to fight a battle for Wizarding-kind. Who knew whether he could manage to come out alive. And they certainly couldn't afford any distractions.

After a moment, Hermione stood up, saying she would take a short watch, just to be sure, and that Harry should get some sleep.

The next morning, Hermione was quickly regaining her stride; Harry found her reading and she sounded stronger. He could see no traces of whatever had happened last night.