(A/N): Sorry this is a week late. My initial version of this chapter had to be entirely rewritten (as did the next chapter), as before uploading I found myself very disappointed in them. This version felt better when I reread it. So we are back on track now~

"…And you would not believe what some of the blokes over in the Fundamentals division have been cooking up," Harry said excitedly. "After a month of long hours they managed to spell together a perpetual spell machine with a net energy gain to let you keep up the chain casting. It was more proof of concept than anything - it can only cast one preset spell at higher and higher intensities - but I can't believe it actually worked."

Hermione found his excitement infectious, returning the smile Harry had on his face. "I suppose they'll have to print a new edition of Waffling's Magical Theory if the Axiom of Anti-infinity has another exception case."

Harry shook his head. "Croacker's trying to argue it falls under the Abstract Exception Clause like with the Fidelius when the Secret-Keepers dies and so that it's not a new case of infinite magic. Man's off his rocker, he's far too partial to the classical views on fundamental magic. He'd rather it get lost in the footnotes at best."

The two shared a laugh at the expense of Harry's rigid boss in the Department of Mysteries, and not for the first time in the five months since Harry gained employment there. Croacker specialized in Temporal Magic, well-known to be extraordinarily difficult and dangerous. But it left him with his own biases, given such magic was indeed inherently finite in scope. It was common for Hermione to ask Harry what was going on in his department, given its largely autonomous nature from the rest of the Ministry.

Hermione asked, "As an Unspeakable, is it really wise to be telling someone else about what's going on in your department? I distinctly recall it being illegal to do so. And as an employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement trust me, my recollection is correct."

The mirth in her expression made it clear she was joking, but Harry still snorted and said, "Oh shove it. Everyone else might fall for 'I'm Hermione Granger, rule-follower extraordinaire' and 'Did you just commit a wand-handling violation? A fine for you, good sir'. But I distinctly recall you," he began counting on his fingers. "Setting teachers on fire, brewing elicit elixirs with the intent to impersonate and abusing time magic to free an imprisoned convict. And people said I had no regard for the rules…"

Hermione lightly swatted his arm and the two shared another laugh at the mention of their ridiculous adventures together. The silence that followed was companionable, so they both took brief sips of their coffee and looked around the cafe they were in. It was a small Muggle business a few blocks from the Ministry, a place Hermione had found and which became a place for them to catch up on a weekly basis, busy as they were in their respective, new careers at the Ministry of Magic. A wandless Muffliato ensured no Muggles (nor anyone else) heard their conversations.

Breaking the silence, Harry said, "Besides, if I can't tell my best friend, who went through hell and back with me, what sorts of crazy stuff we're doing down there, I'd have a screw loose."

Hermione looked at him, sending him a silent thank you with her soft expression. She imagined, she assumed, the subtle reddening of Harry's cheeks, as she was distracted by the strange smoothness around Harry's eyes. His skin wasn't normally so uniform there...

Broaching a touchy subject, Hermione delicately said, "Well if that's the case, what have you been working on? I noticed that you say a lot of what the other research divisions are doing but you're rather vague about your own."

Harry scratched his wrist nervously, trying to keep a cool demeanor in the face of her direct question. It was a topic Harry had actively discouraged discussion of since he'd been promoted and allowed some leeway in the research he worked on. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk about it with Hermione. Outside of his colleagues, she was the one he'd want talk with the most about it. But he knew without a doubt she'd be unhappy about it.

Sipping his coffee again ("stop shaking, hands!"), Harry replied nonchalantly, "Oh, you know. I told you they shunted me over into the Love division once they realized how attuned to that kind of magic I was."

"Harry…"

Sighing, he said, "Fiiiine, but I'll never hear the end of it." He looked her in the eyes. "Those 'chocolate-brown eyes' will be the death of me, I swear…"

Hermione palmed her face at the 'subtle' reference to a pass at her made by one of the creepy interns working in the Elf Liaison Office. Ron had been halfway out the door to hex the man when Harry had told the story one night until Hermione made clear she'd handled the situation. The man's inability to meet Hermione's eyes when Harry saw him convinced him he'd missed something great.

Getting on with it, Harry said, "I've been doing some experimental work, actually. With, uh, you know… the Veil."

Harry was actually glad they were in a Muggle establishment as Hermione couldn't react to negatively without drawing attention to the lack of sound they made due to the spell he'd cast. She settled for looking at him with a furrowed brow.

"Harry, what are thinking? I thought you of all people would stay away from that… that whatever it is."

Harry had to refrain from gritting his teeth at the reference to his godfather. "Hermione, you know I haven't. But there's just something about it. It's not even like before. Ever since I came back things have been odd. The Veil has something to do with it, I just know it."

"How do you know?"

"Well - you know. The Hallows." Her worried expression when he said the forbidden words caused him to quickly follow up his statements, saying, "Whenever I'm near them with all three, they have a reaction, as if there's something I'm supposed to do with it but I don't know what. I've been trying to..."

Hermione had stopped listening for a moment, noticing the strange, unfamiliar gleam in Harry's eyes. He didn't notice that she wasn't responding to him, he continued speaking about whatever theories he had about the Veil, but he had been staring off into space as he spoke, almost in a trance of sorts. But it was the unnaturally smooth and clear features around Harry's eyes that struck her the most. Even in the safer moments, there was always hint of wariness and caution Harry carried with him, a visible, if slight, lack of sleep that grew more pronounced as Voldemort had gotten bolder.

"Harry," Hermione interrupted him.

"Hm?"

Palming her wand, Hermione pointed it at Harry from beneath the table and muttered, "Finite", causing Harry to groan. The charm Harry had used became evident as its effects disappeared. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, which were slightly reddened from lack of sleep. His face was paler than usual; not quite sickly but in great need of sunlight.

Restraining the worry that filed her, Hermione said firmly, "You haven't been taking care of yourself."

Harry wasn't meeting her eyes anymore, embarrassment at having been caught evident on his face. When he didn't respond, see continued, "Is it the Veil? The Hallows? Please don't shut me out…"

His jaw clenched briefly before saying, "It's nothing, just bad dreams about the war keeping me up lately." He briefly glanced at Hermione who didn't seem to be buying his lies. "If I'm having to fess up about my personal life, you should too. How are you and Ron doing? Haven't seen him much in weeks."

Though it had been chosen at random, Harry knew he'd picked the right topic almost immediately as Hermione's lips thinned as if she'd swallowed a lemon. Bad news, he took it.

"Um, we're… going, I suppose." Harry raised an eyebrow, so she elaborated. "Well, you know he's been busy ever since the Cannons signed him as reserve Keeper. What with my work in the DMLE and him travelling so much, things've been a little… trying."

He felt a bit guilty as he didn't want to feel relieved that his friends were having issues of an unspoken nature, but Harry was glad the heat was off him for the moment.

Eyeing her pointedly, he asked, "Are you going to dance around it or is it none of my business?"

Hermione squinted at him but then sighed. "Ron's been distant for awhile now. I thought things were going great the first couple of months, it was exciting honestly. But we don't seem to be on the same page a lot of the time. I'm at work when he's home resting, I get home to relax and am too tired to do much with him before he has a practice session or a match. Can't even remember the last one I saw all the way through…" Her expression was one of guilt, and a bit of sadness.

"But the two of you talk about it, right?"

It was her turn to avoid his eyes, causing Harry to worry. He wasn't used to seeing her lacking self-assurance in, well, anything she did. Maybe his plan to divert attention from himself wasn't so great.

Coughing once due to the awkwardness, Harry said, "Well I think of the two of you talk it out you can patch things up. That's what best friends do, right?"

As the two of them stood up to give a quick hug goodbye, Hermione said, "Right."

When she Apparated to the Ministry afterwards, she realized Harry had managed to distract her questioning and worries. She couldn't shake the memory of his face underneath the Concealment Spells. It wasn't on the level of mania, but definitely obsession.

"Something's gone wrong and his job is just making it worse," she said. Feeling she was going to need help in this, Hermione resolved to talk to Ron about it that evening. What could go wrong?

"How are you doing that, Potter?" asked Croaker in awe more than expecting a direct answer. Though he was technically the head of the Department of Mysteries, as he primarily worked in the Time Chamber, he wasn't entirely privy to all the details of every other team. Theirs was a department of secrecy, unsurprisingly. Knowledge was closely guarded unless there was a very good reason to share it at a given time.

Harry and the team he'd placed in charge of in the Chamber of Death were arranged around the Veil. Harry had the Elder Wand out, testing the effects of its abilities when applied to the Veil, while the rest took notes of their observations.

"Ah, well you know, Dumbledore showed me a little of this, a little of that, before he died," Harry lied through his teeth.

Despite his terrible lying skills, Croaker bought it if only because Harry was actually causing visible changes to the rippling substance within the archway of the Veil. The spell Harry was currently using was the Revelio Spell. Normally the spell was used as a general purpose Untransfiguration spell for Human Transfiguration or to show invisible things, Harry on a whim had thought to cast it at the Veil using Death's wand to see if anything odd happened.

He immediately knew something was working, as when he began casting the spell the tattered, vaporous Veil began undulating strangely. He couldn't help but think of his godfather. Memories of his death at the hands of the strange portal there was a not infrequent dream. But that's when the real changes had begun. Images of Sirius right before his death appeared in the archway as if from a movie projector, showing Sirius dueling his cousin Bellatrix, only to be cursed and fall backwards into the Veil, causing the projected image to feel away, leaving Harry very unsettled.

After that, he'd changed to focus on another person while he continued the spell: Dumbledore. In response, the Veil portrayed some of Dumbledore's final moments, though Harry decided to end the Revelio Spell, not wanting to see anymore of it.

After taking steadying breath, Harry said to his team, "What d'you think? Seems clear the Veil has more functionality than just killing anyone who passes through."

Carter Bornsley, a stout, brown-haired man nine years Harry's senior, spoke up in his booming voice. "This seems to provide evidence of a possible origin of the Veil. Ephyra, Greece. It's capacity to be used as an Oracle of sorts for the dead makes this seem a good possibility."

Grant Kirkhope, another recent hire like Harry, replied, "You mean the theory it was used in the Necromanteion for the Hades cult? Dent over in the Space Chamber insists it was part of a temple in Jerusalem. Something about what's-his-name... You know, that bloke the Muggles like."

"Jesus," Harry said while shaking his head.

"Oi, don't get snappy with me."

Carter ignored there digression. "Dent is a Christian. Very Christian, honestly. He puts too much stock on there being a Veil there. Besides, the design of the archway fits that the time period when the Hades worshippers were very active there. Dent can get over himself. What do you think, Potter?"

Harry had briefly slipped into listening to the barely audible whispering that some could hear emanating from the portal. He'd been practicing a Occlumency for a few months so that it didn't completely enthrall him, but it would still catch him off guard occasionally.

Turning to answer Carter, Harry said, "It may well have been used at the Necromanteion, but that wasn't its origin. Someone very different created it, I suspect."

Carter looked at Harry shrewdly. "What makes you believe that?"

"Call it intuition."

"Give me something more solid than a hunch and then I could actually consider it," he replied coolly.

The Elder Wand vibrated slightly in Harry's hand, leading to another sudden revelation in Harry's mind. The wand didn't actually tell him what to do, but it spurred him to try something he'd thought of when he saw Hermione that day, a spell he'd seen her use once but had never done himself.

Harry confidently said, "Just watch." He pointed the Elder Wand back at the Veil and said, "Aparecium." The spell was intended to be used to reveal hidden writing. Harry was banking on the Veil having something of that sort as an identifying mark.

Grant and Carter were even more surprised by the new result than when it had shown images of people's deaths within the portal. This time only a single thing appeared within the Veil. It was an image of a triangle within which was a circle, which had a line going up the middle of it.

"Isn't that…' began Grant.

"Beedle and the Bard," answered Carter.

"As I thought," Harry said. "Death must have created this archway. It's the only thing that makes sense. What wizard could?"

Carter shook his head in disbelief. "But how? That mark is only a few centuries old. The architecture is definitely that of ancient Ephrya, so how can a more recent British children's story have anything to do with it?"

"Whether you accept it or not, the mark of the Deathly Hallows is undeniably there. I maintain that no wizard could make this," Harry said firmly.

Croaker, who had been quietly watching the experiment go down, snapped out of his reverie as the three were about to continue their conversation. "Well Potter, it's good to see Mintumble wasn't exaggerating about you. I'll expect a report on my desk by the end of the week, preferably with as few redactions as possible."

After the Department Head left the chamber, the three of them made to follow Croacker's lead to leave work. "Fancy that, he almost complimented you. Might be a good day to play the lotto, mate," said Grant.

"It's not surprising. There's hardly ever been anything of note with the research related to the Veil since the Ministry was founded," said Carter. "It's just sat here since it was removed from the Isle of the Blessed by the Wizard's Council. It's probably the biggest conceptual breakthrough this chamber has ever seen, it could open up whole new avenues of magic research."

As the three of them exited the Department of Mysteries, Grant asked, "You two fancy a pint?"

Shrugging, Carter said, "Why not. Admittedly. I wasn't prepared for all that… whatever it is Potter did to make all that occur; I'm not convinced you were just using the spells you called out. I'm still a bit shook up from it."

"Come on Potter, you're not gonna leave me to drink in misery with this guy are ya?"

"Can't make it I'm afraid. I've already made plans to spend the evening watching my godson."

Grant groaned and said in irritation, "You better be getting a good shag out of it for all the times you tell us that's what's keeping you busy."

Before Harry could respond Carter interjected, "I'll take to him the pub. You know how he gets the longer he hasn't had a firewhiskey after hours."

Accepting the not entirely spurious excuse, Harry bid his colleagues good evening before Apparating to just outside the Tonks residence and rang the doorbell. As only a handful of wizards could enter the warded property uninhibited, the door was quickly answered revealing a brown-haired woman Harry had seen much of the past several months, though not the way Grant would have told him to.

"Harry," Andromeda said happily. "Here to see Teddy again?"

Nodding, Harry was let inside and saw Nymphadora Tonks asleep on the living room couch while the infant Teddy was crawling around the floor chasing magical bubbles Andromeda had conjured for him.

"Teddy, come here little tike," Harry said cheerfully. When the infant saw him, his face broke into a large smile and he quickly, though not gracefully, crawled towards Harry. When Harry picked him up, the boy shape-shifted his hair to the messy, jet-black look Harry could never change. The young Metamorphmagus seemed to be trying to copy Harry's scar as well but instead of a lightning bolt it ended as a wavy line on his forehead. "No need for the extra bit, Ted. As it turns out scars are a lot more trouble than they're worth."

Andromeda smiled at the scene. Harry usually seemed down when he wasn't playing with her grandson. Nymphadora seemed to have an easier time communicating with him so as usual she left them to it and went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

"I suppose that's why you're nervous about taking Teddy out in public," Tonks said abruptly, apparently not asleep as she had seemed.

Harry twitched a bit, causing Teddy to yelp at his sudden movement. As he calmed him down, Harry said, Well, yeah. The moment someone sees me with a mini me I'll never hear the end of it."

"What about when you have kids of your own?"

Harry shrugged and looked uncomfortable. "Dunno. Haven't thought about anything like that."

Tonks smirked and said, "Then what do you think about? As often as you visit, Mum is going to think we're trying to keep secret a relationship."

"That's not - I'm not -"

Tonks laughed loudly at his flushed face and said, "Merlin, you're so easy to work up. I know you're not, Harry. But my point stands. Unless you're holding Teddy every time I see you, well, you look lost."

Rather than answer, Harry spent a minute looking into the fireplace as if the flames would yield the answer to Tonks's question. After that failed, he said, "Have you ever felt like you might be on the cusp of something huge… Something that might have all the answers you need but you're afraid it will blow up in your face and make it all meaningless?"

Tonks saw his expression become one she'd only seen when he fought Voldemort back in May. A look of determination, but strained as if it were only just being kept up.

"No, I can't say I have. Is there a story behind this? You're not giving me much to go on."

Claiming up again, Harry muttered, "Never mind," much to Tonks's disappointment.

The rest of Harry's stay was at least amicable, but he seemed determined to primarily entertain Teddy. Tonks's hated to admit it, but he took to the task just a little better than she did. Teddy rarely copied her looks with his ability, though that may have been because she subconsciously changed her appearance so often he wasn't sure which was her original look. To be honest, she couldn't really remember what her normal looks were anymore.

After she laid Teddy down to bed, Harry told she and her mother goodnight and left for Number 12.

"I'm worried about Harry, Mum."

Looking sympathetic, Andromeda said, "He does seem to very quick to leave whenever Teddy goes to bed. Did something happen to him?"

"I don't know, he won't tell me. He just barely mentioned being closed to doing something important but when I asked him to explain he decided to pretend he hadn't said anything."

Looking concerned, her mother said, "Perhaps you should ask his friends. They're more likely to know what's going on."

Exhaling exaggeratedly, Tonks said, "I sure hope so."

Hermione was heading down from the stands after catching some of the tail end of Ron's Quidditch match against Puddlemere United. For the first season in ages, the Chudley Cannons were winning games regularly due in no small part in their acquisition of another competent Keeper and a Seeker that actually knew the Snitch was the little ball. Ron had saved nearly every attempted goal by Puddlemere's Chasers, to the joy of their fans and - to Hermione's chagrin - his fangirls.

Once she'd reached Ron, she was a little annoyed to see one of the Cannons's Chasers hanging on Ron's arm as he recounted some of his better saves. Conveniently, the girl's name was Romilda so Hermione had been on guard whenever she was around.

Walking quickly and pulling Ron aware from her, Hermione said, "Well done out there." She gave Ron a slightly lingering kiss and Miss Tramp seemed to catch the hint.

When they came up for air, Ron smirked and said, "No need for jealousy, Hermione. Romilda is just a flirt."

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "Yes, well, considering what the last Romilda did to you I think I'll take my chances and be petty."

"I guess Muggleborns can drop logic as well as purebloods."

"What?"

Ron shook his head and said, "Harry told me what you said in first year when you two reached Snape's puzzle. I was hurt, Herms. A little offended, even," he said with a faux hurt tone.

The two seemed to get back on track and for that Hermione was grateful. Things had been tricky for them in recent months. She couldn't figure out why and Ron seemed adamant on not saying what the problem was. The not-infrequent senseless bickering hadn't been a welcomed return.

After she Side-along Apparated them to Ron's flat, Ron began a snog that was not unwanted. However, one doesn't simply play Quidditch and return with a pleasant odor.

Hermione pushed him slightly and said, "No, sorry, not until you've showered. I don't want to feel like I'm kissing Goyle."

A bit embarrassed but unable to deny her point, he muttered something that sounded like "thought I smelled manly…"

Fifteen minutes later Ron appeared back in the living room in sweatpants and no shirt. Before she could talk to him, Ron began kissing her again and so she figured she could postpone it.

It all seemed to be going well enough. She was never very confident at this sort of thing. Was there a rhythm to whose tongue moved? Breathing was always tricky, she was surprised no wizard had thought up a way to solve that dilemma. But then Ron's hand began snaking up under her shirt and lightly grabbed her breast. Hermione stopped the kiss and swatted Ron's arm.

"Ron, I didn't tell you you could do that!" she huffed annoyedly.

Ron seemed to be trying to keep the mood from souring and said, "Come on, I just wanted to see if we could try something more for once."

"Then ask first next time."

"...So, can we?" he asked while grinning.

Frowning, Hermione said, "I-I'm not sure. I don't think I'm ready."

Ron sat upright on the couch and gritted his teeth. "Then when, Hermione? When will you be ready? We've been dating for like eight months and I feel like we haven't moved at all."

"You can't rush these sorts of things. I can't choose when I feel comfortable with… that."

Ron seemed like he was going to press the issue before he sighed and nodded his head in acceptance. Hermione really didn't know why she felt so uncomfortable taking their relationship further than the occasional snog. Ron usually never made her feel pressed into it, and she'd certainly thought about it. But every time it was… time she lost her nerves and stopped them from doing it. Maybe she needed to ask another woman for advice. It didn't seem like a "consult-the-books" problem.

As an attempt to shift away from the burgeoning awkwardness, Hermione began, "Listen Ron, when Harry and I were having coffee this morning, I found something wrong. You see,..."

"And here we go," Ron interjected, an unmistakably irritated expression appearing on his face.

"He-huh?"

"No no, go on. Blokes love to hear about other men's problems when their girlfriends have hang ups with them."

"He's your friend too, Ron. But he's hurting and there's he's having some kind of problem so I-"

"Did you ever stop to think that I might be hurting? That I might be having problems? It'd be nice if my girlfriend cared half as much about me as she did about another man," he said bitterly.

Silence took residence between them as Ron's words settled on Hermione. Had she been ignoring him? It hadn't felt like it, but with her intense work trying to reform British wizarding laws around house-elf enslavement and the "loopholes" that allowed the wealthy to hand money to government officials, trying to puzzle out what was going on with Harry this time and attending Ron's Quidditch matches when possible, she thought she'd had all her bases covered. Certainly her schedule felt filled to the brim.

"I mean it's like you don't even notice how draining it is trying to keep George from calling it quits after Fred died," Ron said softly.

"Ron, I'm sorry I didn't notice. It's just, between all the pressure I'm under at work and this stuff with Harry… well, I thought you had a handle on everything. You seemed to be doing well so…"

Ron's gaze hardened and he seemed to resign himself to something. He stood up and walked in the direction of the single bedroom in his flat.

Confused, Hermione asked, "Ron, what are you doing?"

Ron stopped his exit, and without turning around to look at her, he said, "I didn't want to accept it at first. I mean, who'd just listen to the screeching of an evil piece of soul about one's own friends?"

"What are you talking about? You're not making sense Ron?" Hermione said, feeling highly apprehensive at the unfamiliar tone Ron was speaking to her in.

He finally turned around to look at her and she was surprised to see his glistening, reddening eyes. "Turns out the locket was right. I'll always be of secondary concern to you. I'll never measure up to his importance in your eyes. I've been wondering for months about it, I think I just need to face the facts."

Hermione felt her own tears appearing and said, "That's not fair. He's my best friend. I'm supposed to be there for him too. I can't let him fall apart like that. He's disguising his appearance so people don't notice he's unwell Ron."

Ron snorted a little. "And here I thought your boyfriend, who was also your best friend, might get just a little more preferential treatment. Or just a bit more notice when I need help too. But every time I turn around it's 'Harry has this problem, Ronald' and 'I'm worried about Harry'-o'clock'. I thought we might be the one place where that wouldn't happen."

"What are you saying?" she asked fearfully.

Ron turned back around and walked to his door. "What I'm saying, I suppose, is that I can't stay in a relationship where I'm less important to my girlfriend than another man. I trust you'll see yourself out."

Hermione couldn't believe what had just happened. Her heart was beating quickly and her tears were falling uninhibited. And then the cold of his rejection creeped in, causing her to begin sobbing. She'd never felt this type of pain. Had she really been so horrible a girlfriend? She was sure she could've been better. Could still be better, if Ron would just listen. But if he heard her calling his name he didn't respond. After thirty minutes of a failed endeavor, Hermione decided to save what remained of her dignity and Apparated to the Burrow.

When she arrived, Mrs. Weasley quickly saw her state and said, "Hermione, what's wrong?"

"M-Molly, Ron he-he ended things between us. I just don't know what I was supposed to do?" she managed to say.

Mrs. Weasley embraced her and kept telling her things would be okay. Eventually, they sat down on the couch and she made the both of them tea despite a strong desire for something stronger as Hermione told her what happened.

After an unnecessarily long sip, Hermione asked, "Do you think I've been a bad girlfriend?"

Molly sighed and the words she said would begin a conversation Hermione never forgot.

"Not to sound unsympathetic - you know I love you like your one of my own - but I was honestly surprised you and Ron lasted as long as you did."

(A/N): Yeah, sorry about that delay. The initial version of this chapter was, as I discovered, very contrary to my intention to avoid like bashing of characters. Ron was unnecessarily mean and pushy, so I took a week to rewrite this chapter and the chapter that comes after it before I started uploading again. Please please Favorite and Review! They motivate me~~~

I think in this version it's more realistic. Ron feels like Hermione isn't as committed as he is and that she's holding back more than he thinks is reasonable. Hermione has her own issues and he's coming to realize what those might be. And as the ending suggests, those reasons (which are based on canon) will feature heavily in the next chapter. So to those asking to end the R/Hr and to proceed with the H/Hr, there's some of that progress. As I said, this story isn't going to be long so it's not going to take overly long. :-) Lastly, Harry's relationship with Death's objects continues next chapter as well, obviously.