Chapter One

I lifted my tired gaze toward the man sitting on the bed across from me. His expression was as weary and as exhausted as everyone's around us, if not more.

I took his hand in mine, hoping to ignite some kind of emotion. A twinkle of his old self barely glinted in his eyes for a second- and then faded again.

I sighed and put his hand back into his lap. He gathered up the unopened letters from back home, shook his head, and put them back into his trunk. I shook my head back at him and took them out again.

He sighed. "Hermione, please. I don't want to read them. It's too…depressing."

"It's your friends writing to you, Harry. I think you should stop avoiding them. They love you, and you know you love them too."

"I'm not avoiding them. I'm avoiding their letters." I gave him a look that told him that his answer was not acceptable. He finally returned my look and got serious. "Okay, I just don't want to deal with reading about their happy and perfect lives back there, and when I'm done reading, I'm looking at where we are, which is…" He looked around desolately. "…here."

He lay down and stubbornly faced the wall, away from me. I tried to reply gently. "Harry, you know that their lives are far from perfect. It's hard all around. We have to get use to it right now, but it'll be over soon."

"Whatever, Hermione," he mumbled back.

I allowed a few seconds of silence until I pointed out, "One of those letters will be from Ginny."

Ginny had been stationed at another campsite, apart from us. She wasn't an auror, but a healer. We all knew that her and Harry still had really strong feelings for each other, but they were both avoiding them. However, we didn't see them searching for other prospects either.

He didn't say a word. He just kept staring at the wall.

I closed my eyes for a moment, then walked out the door.

Things weren't much cheerier outside. The skies were gray and cloudy, people were grimly guarding the entrances in the barbed fences around the campsite, and the mood was so dim and sad and tense, that even the woodland animals that inhabited the area around sensed it.

I could hardly bear it. But I had to. We all had to.

I almost missed my old life. My life as a muggle. Sure, we didn't have magic, but we got on alright. And even more important, we were living in a seemingly safe time, away from all the violent nonsense. If I didn't get that letter the day I turned eleven, things would be so different right now. I might have been happy.

I remembered that when I was still in muggle school, the teacher had taught us about all those wars- the Vietnamese War, the war between the Trojans and the Greeks, the World Wars… I remembered how unlucky I thought those people were- the ones who lived in those rough time periods.

And now those people were me and every person I knew.

We were smack dab in the middle of the war against Voldemort.

Our daily routine was this: We'd get out of bed at about four or five a.m., eat a quick meal, and take turns guarding and training for attacks. And attacks came often. Death Eater numbers increased as Ministry confidence plummeted. And things got even worse after Dumbledore was murdered by Snape.

People got really scared after that. After all, if he was gone, Voldemort was afraid of no one.

A lot of the attacks were obviously Voldemort teasing and taunting us. It was his way of conveying his message to us- See how powerful we are, and how pathetic you all are. Now, aren't you sorry you are opposing me? Aren't you sorry that you didn't join me? My side is the winning side, and yours is the side that will be crushed under the weight of my wrath.

Starting our seventh year, instead of school, Harry, Ron and I searched for the remaining Horcruxes. We found the locket, the cup, and even managed to exterminate Voldemort's snake and companion, Nagini. But we couldn't find the last thing. We spent more then a year searching for that last piece of Voldemort's soul, besides the one in him still; but to no avail. What could Voldemort use that was something that belonged to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw? Both were opposing houses, and brighter than Hufflepuff, so it would be near impossible for Tom Riddle to place his trust in either of them.

And here we were, six years older with a lifetime worth of experience and pain. My twenty- third birthday was going to be sometime next week- July 24th. It was now July 18th.

I was hoping that Ron and Harry would remember our yearly tradition. Ever since we started hunting Horcruxes, for every one of our birthdays, we would have our own little party in a nearby bar or something, and we'd basically get drunk and reminisce about the good old days while playing a childish game, like exploding snap or something. Not the most riveting tradition, but a tradition nonetheless.

We arrived at the war camp only two years ago, but it felt like twenty. Last year, we couldn't celebrate my birthday, because there was an attack that day.

I had even requested the day off for the three of us that day. The head guard I asked was hesitant but gave me a break in the end.

I took a deep breath and told myself to just wait a little longer, and maybe we'll all be granted some salvation, some relief. Just a little bit longer. It had been my mantra for the past two years.

Ever since we arrived here, the war has been sucking us dry. Dry of emotion, dry of laughter, dry of life. At least when we were on our own searching, we had a few laughs. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed.

Perhaps on my birthday, we could have a few. It would be good for all three of us.

"Hey, Hermione, it's our shift to go stand guard." Ron's solemn voice interrupted my nostalgic remembrances.

"Got it. Let me just mail my letter to my parents." He nodded, and as he walked away, I was saddened by how much we had all changed.

Ron had turned from fun, frivolous, and goofy to serious, solemn, and all about his work as an auror. Recently, he had been upgraded to a leading guard, seeing how well he was doing. I had changed according to my friends' behaviors, and matched them in mood.

And Harry…in a word, he could be described as empty. He almost never showed any emotion, and his eyes were hollow. His face was pale enough, and his dark hair only added more contrast.

Hoping to get a reaction that was more like the Ron I once knew, I called out after him, "Hey!" He turned his head and looked at me questioningly. "Don't get so caught up, Sergeant." I did a fake little salute and smiled at him.

He broke into a boyish grin, one that I missed so much, so this made me grin too. He raced toward me and picked me up by a hug. I laughed, and I have to say, it felt really good to do so. I knew that he was in there somewhere. "Just a little longer, Herms."

My smile wavered at this comment. I guess I wasn't the only one with that particular mantra.

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On guard with Ron, we struck up a conversation. Soon, I introduced the topic of conversation that was on my mind for a long, long, long time.

"Ron..." I started, but I didn't really know how to phrase my sentence yet.

He waited patiently until I continued. This used to be a trait he lacked, but somehow he picked up along the way.

"How long do you think a little longer will be?" I shuffled my feet.

He thought about the question and answered truthfully, "I don't know, Herms. Could be years, and it could be next week. Just can't tell."

My eyes hardened and my body tensed up at the word "years". I swept my hair from behind my ears to cover my face. I didn't want him to catch on.

However, we weren't best friends for nothing. He looked at me and knew right away.

"Hermione, come on. It's alright." He looked at me from where he stood, but didn't come over to me or anything. "Like I said, it could be anytime. Even next week!"

I covered up my weakness and said, "I know, Ron. Just…whatever." I maintained myself, but felt some remorse.

The old Ron would have abandoned his position for at least a minute to comfort me with a hug at the very least.

But this Ron wouldn't. In the old days, if he did leave his place for a minute, I would have chided him on it by saying, Oh, Ron, you really shouldn't have done that. What if an intruder came? So irresponsible! But inside I would have felt good about his move, and he would know that.

And awkward silence followed. Finally, he broke it by saying quietly, "You're my best friend, Hermione. All these years, you, me, and Harry have been looking out for each other, back to back, keeping each other from going over the edge…and I guess that I'm just afraid that if one of us d…goes missing…"

I stiffened. I knew he what he was really going to say. And if one of us did die, I wouldn't be able to stand it.

I nodded and whispered, "You can just say it, Ron. I know that you were about to, but you didn't."

"Hermione, don't start that."

"Well, we all know that it's a very real possibility."

He just looked straight forward, resuming his stance. We stayed quiet for a while; a tense and awkward silence.

I spoke again. "I'm just so sick of it all."

"Yeah. Me too."