Chapter 1- A Heated Discussion

A/N: Hello! This will be a short story involving Harry and Hermione in DH following Ron's leaving that I have already written and will update throughout the weekend.

For those of you following "An Unlikely Meeting Between Two Unlikely Paths", thank you very much for all of reviews of the last chapter. All the support really brings a smile to my face. I'm currently working on Chapter 39 and that should be completed by next weekend. Again thanks for your patience!

I hope you enjoy this story; I've tried to make Harry and Hermione as realistic and close to canon as I could.

Please let me know how you feel through reviews!

Harry finished his sandwich and looked through the tent's entrance. The day was very gloomy, even though it registered to Harry that winter must be approaching. A blanket of molten grey covered the sky, immersing the land below in a dull, lifeless daze. The wind was beginning to whip around the leaves more viciously, a biting, harsh sting pervading the air. Harry swallowed his glass of water. His shift this afternoon would probably occur within a thunderstorm.

Looking at Hermione, Harry sighed. He preferred standing guard in the pouring rain to staying in the tent right now. She was eating her chicken and lettuce sandwich, her eyes downcast on the table and her face seemingly set in a permanent frown. Ever since Ron left, they had barely said a few words to each other. Each day seemed to unfold itself in a horrible, awkward silence that neither wanted to acknowledge. Ron's shadow seemed to always weigh on them, lodging itself between them and paralyzing their conversations.

Harry gritted his teeth angrily. Ron. His best friend of six years had just left them; he wanted to think it was due to the locket that now lay around Hermione's neck but he could not completely rationalize it to himself. "It" was abandonment. He was furious at Ron. When they most needed to stay together, fight through all this danger, find a way to destroy the locket and determine the locations of the other Horcruxes, he left them. He closed his eyes, remembering the savage fury on Ron's face when they fought that night.

Harry opened his eyes to see Hermione place her glass of water loudly on the table, flipping through a page of one of the Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts books she had brought along. She appeared not to care about Ron's abandonment but he remembered the way she cried when he left. And every night, he heard her tremble in her sleep, her cries clearly audible.

Harry felt terrible for Hermione. He knew Ron and her were becoming closer before he left. They seemed genuinely happy with one another, the snappy arguments not as frequent or intense. Harry swallowed. Maybe they would still be a couple if it were not for him and this stupid quest. He remembered she and Ron talking behind his back, probably about how they expected more of him, thought he could be more of a leader than he was. A wave of anger surged through Harry. Didn't they know that everything Dumbledore told him he had told them? Did they not realize that the task Dumbledore gave him was almost impossible when they started on this journey? And for this reason, though Harry wanted to say something to Hermione, to ease the tense silences that almost automatically passed between the two of them, he could not because he feared it would be a harsh retort.

But the fact remained that Hermione stayed with him, despite whatever skepticism she had about this quest. Harry pursed his lips. He remembered her words when Ron asked her to leave with him. "We promised we would go on this trip." Harry gritted his teeth. Was she still here because of some stupid obligation? So that he wouldn't be alone? Again, the anger and frustration simmered within Harry. He just wanted everything to start over again; for Dumbledore to still be alive so that he would not have to do this all by himself, so that Ron would still be here and that he and Hermione would not be at the end of their nerves.

"Harry," whispered Hermione, the locket in her hand as she gestured to him. "You should go outside."

Harry shook his head to jerk himself out of his musings. "Yes, thanks," mumbled Harry, taking the locket from her. He held it in his hands, wanting to delay the somber, catatonic mood that washed over him when he wrapped the locket around his neck.

He turned around to walk out of the tent, but paused in mid step. Shouldn't he at least try to say something? Would it get them out of this uncomfortable, lost state? No, but it would help. And why wait? Was any time really the right time when they were running for their lives?

Harry exhaled. Yes. He would do it. He was tired of keeping his mouth shut and his eyes directed downwards when he was, for all intents and purposes, living with one of his best friends. He swiveled his body around to look towards Hermione, trying to catch her eyes which remained fixed on her book. Though her brow furrowed as he turned around.

"Er, Hermione," said Harry tentatively.

Hermione lifted her head with a curious expression. "What, Harry?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, unsure as to what to say. Should he ask her about Ron? Should he just ask her if she noticed how awkward their conversations were now, how he noticed her crying in her sleep?

"Harry," said Hermione, her voice rising slightly. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry about Ron," blurted Harry. He immediately cringed. They needed to talk about Ron and the words just poured out of Harry's mouth. He was certain he was sincere, but not sure whether Hermione would react well.

Hermione's expression darkened. "Harry, don't."

"Don't what?" asked Harry, frowning at the angry edge to Hermione's voice.

"Don't talk about him," said Hermione harshly. "I am fine. Please go outside."

Harry could not help but feel indignant at her snappy tone. "Hermione, come on-

"Harry, no!" said Hermione forcefully.

For some reason, Harry could not leave the tent; he had made the effort to initiate the conversation and he could not just give in. "Hermione, we need to-

"We don't need to do anything besides keep looking for the Horcruxes. And it doesn't look we're too successful on that front."

The memory of Ron and Hermione whispering to each other surfaced in his mind. All of the anger and frustration within him began to boil again. He was going to get her to talk about Ron.

"I've heard you cry in your sleep."

Hermione's eyes widened, her expression a combination of shock and rage. "Heard what, Harry?" cried Hermione, standing up with her hands on her hips.

"You cry in your sleep," said Harry, his tone firmer. He tried not to let his annoyance creep into his voice. One of the few times he tries to talk to her and she scowls at him.

"Oh really do I, Harry?" said Hermione irately. ""Why, after two weeks of barely talking to me, do you suddenly decide to talk about him?"

Harry clenched his fists. That was below the belt. "There's no need to bite my head off. You can't pretend that Ron hasn't affected you- look you can't even say his name."

"Yes I can!" exclaimed Hermione, stepping forward to him. "RON!"

"Oh congratulations!" said Harry sarcastically. "Now, let's see if you can give me a nice explanation for why you've been sulking the past two weeks and then crying in your sleep?"

"Stop it, Harry," hissed Hermione, her face now contorted in fury. She looked like she was ready to slap him. "Did it ever occur to you that I might be crying in my sleep because of something other than Ron?"

"Like what?" said Harry, stepping forward so that their faces were only a few inches apart.

"Like the fact that my parents are on the other side of the world with no idea who I am?" shouted Hermione.

Harry's face paled. He stepped backward, his fists unclenching, the locket dropping to the ground. "No, I didn't." Something unraveled within him. For some reason, his previous anger and frustration at their predicament lost its stinging, biting edge. All that tension seemed inconsequential; why Harry did not know.

"Well then you should have," stated Hermione emphatically. "In case you haven't noticed, you're not the only one who has problems."

"I have noticed," said Harry weakly.

"No, I don't think you have, Harry," said Hermione, her eyes becoming slightly wet. "I know you Harry- this quest hasn't been good for any of us, especially you. Our lack of progress is consuming you and not to mention Ron leaving and all of the information about Dumbledore we and you never knew."

"What do you mean it's consuming me?" said Harry though he could not muster any indignation.

"You're closing yourself again," said Hermione, finally making eye contact with him.

"I don't blame you Harry at all. It's horrible that all this has been placed on you," continued Hermione in a much quieter tone, devoid of any anger. Instead, her expression looked rather hurt. "You don't need to worry about us- it's just nice sometimes to know that you do pay attention and care."

Harry blinked at her, opening and closing his mouth several times. Whatever unraveled within him was continuing to unwind, loosening him to the point that he felt almost paralyzed.

Hermione nodded at him, her gaze returning to the floor. "I'm going to go for a walk now. I'll take the invisibility cloak. You'll keep watch, won't you? And please don't wear the locket-can you just keep an eye on it?"

Harry nodded, barely registering her words. Hermione took the invisibility cloak from within her beaded bag and rushed out of the tent, never once looking at him.

Harry lowered himself to the chair he had stood up from to take guard. He gave a deep, shuddering breath. He wrapped his head in his arms. He was truly a mess now. What had he done?

He breathed again as a gust of wind whipped through the tent. All the tension, fear and anger of the previous two weeks seemed like a distant memory, something strange and more surprising to Harry, unimportant. He could barely summon those emotions, even when he thought of the night Ron left which now appeared so ordinary. Something had just given within him. Like a tightly wound rope that had lost the object it was holding. And he felt like the rope that continued to break away, to unravel and drop to the ground.

Hermione's words blazed across his mind: "my parents are on the other side of the world with no idea who I am." And then suddenly with that phrase, a maelstrom of emotions bombarded him. Hurt, sadness, anger, horror, guilt, but they were not for him. He realized with a startle that all the emotions rolling through him were for Hermione.

What had Hermione gone through? She had obliviated her parents. Completely erased their memories of who they were, who Hermione was. Harry gulped. Unlike him, she knew her parents. And then in one wave of her wand, she erased everything of their lives, everything of her identity. He could not imagine the guilt she must endure, the fear that they might stay forever oblivious of her if, Harry closed his eyes painfully, she died or if she survived, they may be too angry to forgive her and come back. She did not lose her parents like he did, but for someone who grew up with parents, there must have been a terrible sense of loneliness. And this was all so she could accompany him on this ridiculous quest.

Harry shuddered. Hermione's problems seemed so much more real and closer to him. How had he not noticed her loss before? It seemed as if her words unsheathed his perspective, opening it up for the first time in a while. Hermione's next sentence then reverberated in his head; "No I don't think you have Harry." Had he really been so consumed with the quest that he was blind to his best friend's life? Harry closed his eyes. He remembered his earlier sulking and the answer immediately emerged. Yes. All of his worries always centered on how to find and destroy the next Horcrux, why Dumbledore told him so little and then how Ron left that he never really focused on Hermione's troubles. He worried about her in relation to Ron and whether she truly wanted to stay with him, but nothing about her life. She was right. He had closed off from her.

And then, with a stinging surge of guilt, Harry knew exactly what had unraveled within him. He gritted his teeth. His own selfishness. And now, when he finally appreciated Hermione's feelings, his anger at his own predicament seemed benign, still real but slightly more distant and irrelevant. He shook his head. Shouldn't he have been more aware? She was his best friend, had done so much for him and yet he remained so oblivious. Shouldn't he be more thankful?

With the last question, another one of Hermione's sentences popped into his mind, churning his stomach even more viciously: "It would be nice to know that you do pay attention and care Harry." The guilt sharpened its onslaught upon him. Had Hermione ever left him? No, not in fourth year when even Ron thought him to be a blatant liar and not now when they were lost on this goose chase with most of the wizarding world hunting them down. Where would he be without her? She solved that deadly riddle in first year, uncovered the basilisk for them in second year, helped him save Sirius, helped him survive through the Triwizard tournament in fourth year and supported him so much during fifth year with the DA and Quibbler. She stayed with him despite whatever reservations she may have had and she deserved his gratitude. And turning his guilt into a throttling force, Harry realized bitterly that he had never genuinely said thank you. And is that what Hermione was referring to? Did she think he didn't care about her, did not value her as much as Ron or Ginny?

No, that was surely not true. He needed to say something to her. He did not know how he would say it but he would physically force himself if he had to.

As another gust of wind thrashed through the tent, Harry remembered that he was supposed to be on guard duty. He picked up the locket, ready to throw it along his neck but he remembered Hermione's words. Harry clenched the locket with his fists, feeling its slight but persistent tremor within his palm. He needed to think, not with this object contorting and twisting his thoughts, tearing apart at him. This object had caused them too much grief. Surely, if he kept it by his side, he would be able to prevent if from escaping without having to endure those horrible moods. It had not moved in the ten minutes it lay on the floor so why expect it to fly away from them?

With the locket, Harry walked outside. He conjured two chairs, sitting on one and placing the locket in the other. As the wind rushed over him, he zipped his jacket against his chest, taking out his gloves from his pockets. They were truly approaching winter. The trees were bare. Leaves swirled around with the wind rumbling through the bare branches swinging boisterously and loudly. The sun shone brightly in the sky, pushing through the clouds but a frigid cold cut into the air.

Harry wondered anxiously where Hermione had gone off. It was daylight and they were in one of the more obscure forests from what she had said, but still, the Death Eaters seemed to roam everywhere.

And "what if she does not come back?" piped a small voice in his head. Harry swallowed. His stomach returned to its vicious churning. "Why wouldn't she go?" said the voice, this time much louder. He had essentially interrogated her about Ron and then become angry when she refused to talk about him. Harry shook his head. He wanted to talk about Ron, not her. He wanted to end the awkward silences between them while not even wondering why those silences were so uncomfortable.

Harry kicked away a pile of leaves at his foot, not caring that the leaves floated back to his legs. Hermione had every reason to leave and if she did, he had no idea what he would do. He had foolishly thought he could go on this quest alone when Ron left, but without Hermione, he knew would be at far more of a loss than he already was. He needed her, not only for her tremendous planning and intelligence, but just so that she could be there with him. Someone who genuinely trusted and cared for him.

A horrible desperation started to tug at his chest, the familiar loneliness washing over him. He did not want her to go; he needed her at the moment likely much more than she needed him.

Hermione brushed her eyes with her hand as she left the tent. She hoped Harry did not follow her. She did not think she could hold herself any longer.

When she stepped outside into the cold, she took a sharp turn right, heading for a tree that was within the wards they had set but out of eyesight of the tent's entrance. Hermione shivered as the wind lashed at her. She quickly cast a warming charm around, sitting by the roots of the tree. She glanced around, trying to keep her mind off what had just transpired. It was quite a pretty scene. The clouds had separated to allow the sun to shine brightly. Sunlight streamed through the bare trees, pouring over the ground and painting the swirling leaves in a dazzling array of colours. The trees swung and shook in a smooth yet enthusiastic rhythm as the wind periodically rumbled and rustled.

It was certainly a beautiful Autumn afternoon even as the signs of winter's approach were so clear. No, Hermione corrected herself. It would be a beautiful afternoon if she forgot her conversation with Harry. And then suddenly, the tears cascaded out of her eyes. She did not even bother to stem their flow with their hands, letting them sting her eyes and trail down her cheeks.

An assortment of emotions rushed through her. Anger and irritation followed by shock, then sadness and finally the one that lingered the most, hurt. Hermione gave an exhausted sigh. Why did Harry suddenly want to talk about Ron?

Another storm of emotions overcame her. This one, however, was entirely driven by rage. Ron. She could not even think his name without feeling so angry. She remembered that night so vividly. The pure contempt he displayed for them, the way he forced her to choose between him and Harry and then his disgusted, knowing look when she said Harry needed them and finally, how he continued to walk away as she plead for him to come back. Hermione picked up a stick and threw it against the wards. If she saw Ron now, she was certain she would hex him without any hesitation.

Hermione let out a tired breath. She and Ron were becoming closer prior to this Horcrux hunt. She knew she was attracted to him though she could never tell how strong her feelings were. When he behaved rashly and offended her, she was angry and hurt, but they always reconciled, even over his relationship with Lavender. Yet this abandonment was so much more cruel than all of his other acts; not only did he hurt her but he betrayed Harry's trust and confidence, leaving them at the time when they needed each other the most. She did not know if she would be able to reconcile with him. The hurt still stung, but she was surprised at how furious she was.

A very small part of her rationalized that perhaps, the locket hanging around the neck may have been responsible for his outburst. But she quickly quashed that thought; it was such a flimsy excuse. His feelings had been building for days and possibly weeks. And she and Harry had worn the Horcrux for equally as long if not more and their moods were not as affected. No, Hermione thought, Ron's jealousy had been simmering for a long time, as far back as the Yule Ball. At times, she found the interest endearing, but he could be so irrational, brash and inflammatory with his actions and words that she found it very difficult to accept the jealousy. Even with Lavender, she still could not quell her anger at the memory of the two of them intertwined in the common room after she practically asked him to that party. How could they possibly have a stable friendship and then a relationship Hermione thought if he was so paranoid about her and Harry?

She acknowledged she had an attachment to Ron, but were her feelings strong enough to endure another instance like this? Hermione did not know whether she could forgive him and whether she actually wanted to pursue a relationship with him. And anyway, she scowled, that was an issue of so little importance in comparison to what they faced now. It was just her and Harry.

Harry, Hermione thought. Her mind returned to the reason she was sitting outside. And the hurt again cut sharply into her. Hermione gritted her teeth. He must have said a total of ten words to her in the past two weeks. Yet he suddenly decided to ask her about Ron. In fact, Hermione thought with an angry huff, it always seemed- no she stopped herself from thinking that statement. Harry had every reason to be closed off with the assignment Dumbledore gave him.

No, said a louder voice in her head, "you need to be honest with yourself." Hermione exhaled loudly. The voice in her head was right. It caused Hermione tremendous agitation to admit, but… Harry never truly thought of her by herself. It seemed to be always in relation to Ron. He never asked her about her parents and judging by his reaction to her comment about missing them, that was the first time he had thought about what she did to her parents.

She loved him so much. Thinking of all the suffering he experienced caused an aching sadness to fill her. He deserved none of the loss he endured and none of the future he had to face. And yet, he remained so selfless, so ready to help others and place his life at risk. She remembered her own admiration when he and Ron came to save her from that troll. He was her first friend, and that in itself, she was eternally grateful to him.

It was just, Hermione sighed, that he sometimes did not pay enough attention… And it very much hurt her when he seemed not to notice her own feelings and problems. Hermione bit her lip. She sounded so selfish. She knew he cared for her, but she sometimes wished that he showed he valued her help and more importantly, her presence as a friend. A tumultuous wave of guilt rolled through her as she remembered her comment to him about "not noticing" and that it would have been "nice" for him to show that he cared. How could she have said that? Harry had every right to focus on the quest; he did not need to worry about making her feel "valued."

Maybe, said another even smaller voice in her head, that prior feelings were arising within her. Hermione gulped, not wanting to even contemplate whether there was a grain of truth in that statement. She remembered her infatuation with Harry following their rescue of Sirius in third year; her attraction, which she always tried to characterize as a schoolgirl crush, lasted till the beginning of fifth year.

Yet she could never fully label her feelings for Harry as merely an infatuation. Even in third year, she sensed something deeper underlying her attraction. After they saved Sirius , she remembered the powerful clarity that infused her; a sweeping appreciation for Harry and a complete contentment in his presence that she could never separate from romantic aspirations. In fact, she thought that this clarity spurned those romantic feelings. And for this reason, when she realized Harry would not see her in a romantic sense, the sadness was so devouring and penetrating. Hermione shuddered. Like a path of her life, the most fulfilling and energizing option, was closed off. Although she learned to wall off her feelings, the longing still lingered within her, frightening her at times with how quickly it could fill her. And at these times, her feelings returned with alarming vigor, like Hermione thought bitterly, when Harry kissed Ginny... she smiled at Harry, but the disappointment was again so strong, so biting that she had to leave the common room. She only hoped that her words to Harry were not a sign of another one of those sharp bursts of emotion approaching.

Hermione shook her head, scowling at herself. There was no time for self pity. She brushed her eyes with the back of her hand. At some point, she would have to return to the tent. She felt like she should apologize to Harry; she did not mean to hurt him or lash out at him. Harry did not need to appease her; there were far important things. But, her words were true, Hermione answered back to herself. If they were true, then she could repeat them again in another fit of anger and then how would she explain to Harry?

She gritted her teeth. All her feelings were so confusing now. Everything just seemed to swirl around in her head. She could not bottle up any emotions into pure rational reason. Hermione breathed. She had no desire to talk to Harry whether she apologized or not. She would just walk into the tent, ignore Harry and have a rest. They had been living in silence for two weeks. Surely it would not be so hard to continue that pattern?

A/N: How did you like the chapter? And their argument?

I appreciate all the reviews I receive; this is my first H/Hr fanfiction so all the feedback is great for improvement.