He's gone, he's gone, he's gone…..

Those words kept running around in circles in my head as I curled up under the blankets. Harry was outside, keeping watch. I knew he was hoping he would come back, but I think we both knew…he wasn't.

I felt the tears fall, staining the pillow. I tried to be quiet, but I think Harry knew. And if he knew, he didn't give any signs. He just let me cry.

It wasn't until later after the rain had finally turned to drizzle that I finally drifted off into a fitful sleep and awoke to Harry gently shaking me.

"What?" I asked stupidly.

"You wanna take watch?" he asked softly.

I nodded, pushing my disheveled hair out of my face. My eyes were swollen, but I stood up, shivering. It was cold. I pulled on a jacket, took my wand out and lit it, and sat in front of the tent, waiting.

But nothing happened. Nothing ever did.

Where was Ron?

No. I couldn't let my mind wander to him, I chastised myself. I couldn't think of the morning of the wedding…or the night we arrived at Grimmauld Place….Those thoughts were banished. At least for a while.

I let out a tiny sigh, wanting to read The Tales of Beedle, the Bard again but I didn't want to risk being distracted and finally have someone find us and attack us.

When dawn finally came, Harry and I lingered longer than necessary. We packed the tent slowly and I swore I heard someone walking around and at every sound, my head whipped up, hopeful, but it was usually just some animal. I knew Harry was hoping too because every time I looked up, he looked up.

Finally, we knew we could no longer stay, so I took Harry's hand and we Disapparated. I took us somewhere far away. I didn't want to be anywhere that could be anywhere close to Ron.

We didn't talk as we set up camp and I took the Horcrux necklace without word and sat in front of the tent flap while Harry tried to find firewood. I looked around the clearing, searching for anything remotely edible, but there was nothing. But we got lucky. Harry had found some wild mushrooms and I cooked them.

We still weren't talking. What was there to say? Nothing….

A few days after Ron left, Harry was walking around the tent, a look of concentration on his face. I was curled up in a chair, rereading The Tale of the Three Brothers. Actually…I was pretty much just staring at this weird rune above the title. I had my Ancient Runes book open, but it was nothing like I had ever seen and the rune wasn't in the book.

"Hermione?" came Harry's voice somewhat distantly.

I ignored him and said, "Hey Harry? Can you come here for a moment?"

I heard him walk over and I raised the book up for him to look at it.

"Have you ever seen this before?" I asked him.

Harry shook his head, looking puzzled. "No. you were the one who took Ancient Runes."

"Yes, but I've never seen this before and it's not in the book," I told him. I pulled the book back to my lap.

Harry gave it another try.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?" I asked, still staring at the rune.

"I was thinking…we should go to Godric's Hollow," he said sounding hesitant.

I sighed. "Yes, I was thinking the same and I think we really ought to."

It was true. Where else would the sword be? Godric's Hollow…Godric's sword….It fit.

"You were?" Harry asked, sounding bewildered.

I nodded. "It's where Godric Gryffindor lived."

"Godric Gryffindor lived there?" Harry asked, sounding excited now.

I let out a frustrated sigh. Honestly!

"Haven't you ever opened Hogwarts, A History?" I asked him, exasperated.

"Yeah…when I first got it…," Harry replied. He might have well have been shuffling his feet like a little five year old who got caught stealing from the cookie jar.

"Well, Godric's Hollow was named after Godric Gryffindor," I said. "Anyways….I think it's where the sword might be."

"And, well…I wanted to see my parents graves," Harry said, his voice quiet.

I gave him an automatic sympathetic look. I couldn't help it. Ron was wrong, that much I knew. I was with Harry. He didn't ask for any of this. He didn't ask for Voldemort to scar him, marking him as Voldemort's enemy. And that's why I stayed with Harry. Because while I love Ron…I promised Harry. I promised him I would help him. And I knew he was right. I've always known that.

It was never easy to tell Ron no. I wanted to go with him; I wanted to be safe again, never to be hunted for being a Muggleborn. But that's when my thoughts changed. I would never be safe – no one would be safe! – until Voldemort was destroyed. And he can't be destroyed unless we stay with Harry and destroy the Horcruxes.

But that didn't keep Ron's last words to me from haunting me.

"I get it….you chose him…."

I could help but run after him. There was nothing else for me to do! I couldn't just let him go! But he was gone….

After careful planning, Harry and I got hairs from two Muggles shopping for Christmas and, after using the last of the Polyjuice Potion, we finally made our way to Godric's Hollow.

When we Apparated in the town, I looked around and saw wreaths on many doors, loud caroling came from a pub nearby and then it hit me.

"All this snow!" I said under my breath. "Why didn't we think of snow? After all our precautions, we'll leave prints! We'll just have to get rid of them – you go in front, I'll do it."

But Harry shook his head.

"Let's take off the Cloak," Harry said. I looked at him, scared. What if someone saw us? "Oh, come on, we don't look like us and there's no one around."

Harry stowed the Cloak under his jacket and we walked on.

"Harry. I think…I think it's Christmas Eve!" I told him, pulling his arm. Harry turned and looked and nodded.

"Is it?" he asked me.

"I'm sure it is," I said, looking at a church where we could hear a choir singing. "They…they'll be in there, won't they? Your Mom and Dad? I can see the graveyard behind it."

Harry hesitated a little. I took his hand and pulled him forward. When we were about halfway across the square, something caught my eye and I stopped dead.

"Harry, look!"

I pointed at the memorial that had caught my eye. When we passed it, it turned into a statue of three people: a man with glasses, a woman with long hair, and a baby boy.

Harry pulled away and drew close to the statue. Sadness washed through me. While I had merely put a Memory Charm on my parents and Harry's were…gone…it still made me sad to think that it was almost like my parents were dead. I shook myself mentally as Harry turned back to me.

"Come on," he muttered. We crossed the road and I saw him look over his shoulder. I didn't look with him, so I just kept walking, leading us through.

There was a gate at the entrance of the graveyard and I pushed it open quietly as I could. We edged through the gap and were standing in the graveyard.

We spilt, Harry going one way, I went the other.

From across the graveyard, Harry called, "Look at this, It's an Abbott, could be some long-lost relative of Hannah's!"

"Keep your voice down," I begged him urgently.

We walked farther when one grave in particular caught my eye.

"Harry, here!"

Harry waded through the snow to her, his face eager.

"Is it -?"

"No, but look!"

I pointed at the grave and Harry stooped down and looked at it.

It was a headstone for a Kendra Dumbledore and an Arianna Dumbledore, Dumbledore's mother and sister. There was a quotation, which read:

Where your treasure is, there will be your heart also.

Harry stood and, even though his face was in shadow, I could swear that his face was not as calm as he was trying to make it look.

"are you sure he never mentioned-?" I began, wondering if Dumbledore ever told him anything about his sister, but Harry cut me off.

"No," he said curtly, and then added, "let's keep looking."

We parted again and I went left.

I was looking for only a few moments when a name caught my eye.

Excited, I cried, "Here!" Then, realizing it didn't say Potter, I quickly added, "Oh no, sorry! I thought it said Potter."

I crouched down and rubbed at the mossy stone. I could feel the frown on my face. That name was familiar. But where had I…?

"Harry, come back a moment."

I was sure that I'd seen this name before.

She heard him crunch his way towards her. When he reached her, he asked, "What?"

"Look!"

I pointed at the symbol I'd just spotted as he was walking.

"Harry, that's the mark on the book!"

It was the mark that looked like an eye. The triangular shape, the circle, and the line.

"Yeah…it could be…."

Lighting my wand, I then pointed at the name on the headstone.

"It says Ig-Ignotus, I think…."

"I'm going to go look for my parents, all right?" Harry walked off. I could tell he was getting agitated that I kept sidetracking him, but I couldn't help it. It was the mark from the book!

Finally, I stood and began searching again.

Somebody inside the church turned off the lights, thrusting us into darkness.

After searching for a few more minutes, looking at many surnames I recognized and some that had died out completely. And then I saw them.

"Harry, they're here…right here."

Harry made his way quickly over, his breathing heavy. I vaguely wondered if he knew that he was breathing as heavy as he was. But at the same time, I was looking down at the graves. Pure white marble, lit brightly in the darkness. The words engraved on it was easily read.

James Potter Lily Potter

Born 27 March 1960 Born 30 January 1960

Died 31 October 1981 Died 31 October 1981

The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.

"'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death'…" Harry read aloud. "Isn't that a Death Eater idea? Why is that there?

"It doesn't mean defeating death in the way the Death Eaters mean it, Harry," I said gently. "It means, you know…living beyond death. Living after death."

I saw the tears fall from his eyes and my heart tugged at the sight. I took his hand and squeezed it tightly, letting him know I cared. He squeezed back but didn't look at me.

A thought occurred to me and, raising my wand, I moved it in a circle and a wreath of Christmas roses blossomed before us. Harry caught it and placed it on the grave.

He stood and put his arm around my shoulders. I put mine around his and, together, we walked out of the graveyard.

We walked a bit and then something occurred to me. "Harry, how are going to find Bathilda's house?" I asked him, shivering in the cold. "Harry? What do you think? Harry?"

I tugged his arm, but he wasn't paying attention. He was looking forward at a black mass that stood at the end of the row of houses. He suddenly sped up, dragging me with him; I slipped on some ice."

"Harry –"

"Look…Hermione, look…."

I don't…oh!"

When we reached it, we both gasped and looked at the dilapidated house that appeared before us.

One side of the house was completely gone and the rest looked unsafe.

"I wonder why nobody's ever rebuilt it," I whispered curiously.

"Maybe you can't rebuild it?" Harry replied. "Maybe it's like the injuries from Dark Magic and you can't repair it."

Harry suddenly walked forward and touched the gate.

"Oh, Harry no! You can't go in! It looks unsafe! It might – oh, Harry, look!" I said to him anxiously.

It was like Harry's touch on the gate cued the sign to rise up from the tangle of nettles and weeds.

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981,

Lily and James Potter lost their lives.

Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard

Ever to have survived the Killing Curse.

This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left

In its ruined state as a monument to the Potters

And as a reminder of the violence

That tore apart their family.

All around these words, there were little notes written in Everlasting Ink or carved in the sign. Most were just initials, but some had actually left messages, all saying similar things.

Good luck, Harry, wherever you are.

Long live Harry Potter.

"They shouldn't have written on it!" I said indignantly.

But Harry beamed at me.

"I think it's brilliant."