Author's Notes:

Ron/Hermione are definitely one of my favourite secondary couples to HG, but after Hinny, I love Remadora the most. I'm in the HPRomione channel on discord and after I saw Frozen II in theatres months ago I mentioned how this song by Kristoff reminded me of Romione, specifically after Ron leaves in DH, and I wrote 2 paragraphs as a joke and never touched it again. I woke up Friday morning with this need to write this story that I can't explain and hammered this out in five hours. I felt like certain clips from this chapter needed to be kept in.

So without further ado, I hope you like it.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the clip from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, that belongs to the lovely JKR.

Thank you to Dusk for her awesome editing skills!

As always, thank you very much for reading and please, please review!

Your reviews give me life! They give me inspiration! And they make me want to keep writing for more than just myself! Thank you for all of your continued support!

Lost in the Woods

Ron stood in the forest, holding the Deluminator in his hand. The further he had stormed off from Harry and Hermione, the calmer he felt, and the more he realized what an atrocious mistake he had made. It had been the locket that had made him feel those things. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The locket had pried those worst thoughts from his mind and made them so big and so real that he had let them overpower him. He'd let them make him think that he was wrong, and now... the look on Hermione's face when he'd left.

She would never forgive him.

She'd run after him, screaming his name and he'd kept walking.

He was an arse.

And now he was lost.

Of course, Hermione Bloody Granger was too damn powerful for her own good. Her charms were too strong, and he had no way of finding them. What was he supposed to do now? He knew that he was wrong about one thing: They did need him, and he needed to find his way back.

He tried to follow where he thought they would be, but to no avail.

Then he found himself face to face with a group of Snatchers.

"Well, well, well, who do we have here?"

Ron looked at the bloke who spoke. He was a really ugly man and he couldn't help but stare at his yellowing teeth. "Who needs to know?"

"Oi, you being smart with us, prick?"

Ron shrugged. "Just passing through."

"Passing through, eh? You got yer papers?"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Papers?"

The ugly man snorted. "You hear this prick, Bert? He's trying to tell us he ain't got no papers. What's your blood status, arsehole? You obviously should be at school."

"Pureblood," Ron said defiantly. "My name's Stan Shunpike and I'm just passing through."

Bert, a messy tangle of dark hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in months, snorted. "Shunpike, right. You're coming with us."

Ron's wand moved faster than they did. He stunned Bert and shot a stinging hex straight at the ugly man's face. He swore, reaching for his own wand, but Ron disarmed him. He shoved him back against the tree, tying his hands and feet to the large trunk.

"Piss off! Let me go!"

Ron snorted. "Why? Looks like you'll just piss away any money you get for me anyway." He dragged Bert up alongside of him, tying him up to the tree as well and took both of their wands.

He stunned the ugly man to shut him and shoved their wands into his pocket before he turned to Apparate away. It was his bad luck that he came across two more Snatchers.

The good thing was that they'd surprised each other. Ron ducked to avoid the spell sent at him, rolling out of the way.

"Get him!"

Someone grabbed his cloak and he fell to the ground, wrestling with the man and his fist collided with someone's nose hard enough to crack. A man's dirty hands gripped him from behind. He was dragged off the man on the ground, and a fist hit his chin. He saw stars as his head collided with the earth before he rolled out of the way and jumped to his feet.

He used a knock-back jinx to send the man flying before he stunned his other opponent. There was a yell and a curse and Ron sent another stunner at the man cursing before he turned tail and booked it through the woods. But a fifth Snatcher came out of nowhere and tackled him to the ground. The man disarmed him and he found himself staring up at the five Snatchers around him.

"He said his name is Stan Shunpike," Bert declared, rubbing his head.

The one who had snuck up on him and tackled him to the ground in the woods looked and smelt like a troll. "Stan Shunpike? Ain't he in Azkaban?"

"Nah, they released him!"

"This him?"

"Says so."

"Can't be!"

"Why would he lie?"

"Why wouldn't he lie?" The troll-like man declared.

Bert threw a punch at the ugly bloke and a fight broke out. Ron took the opportunity to punch the man holding him in the stomach. He disarmed him and stole his wand before he used Expelliarmius on the bloke the troll-like bloke who was holding Ron's wand. He was amazed at his own luck as his wand flew into his hand and Disapparated on the spot.

He Apparated a little further away, wincing in pain. Fuck, he thought. He'd splinched himself again. He looked down at his right hand where two fingernails were missing. He put the fingers in his mouth to try to stop the bleeding and ran when he heard movement in the distance. He ran for a solid ten minutes before he was sure he'd lost them. He rested his forehead against the trunk of a tree, desperately trying to catch his breath.

That had been too close for comfort.

Ron checked himself out, found the one wand in his pocket from the bloke he'd punched in the stomach and the Deluminator in the other. He felt slightly better knowing that he hadn't lost it in the struggle, not that the damn thing did anything but Dumbledore had left it to him for some unknown reason and he didn't want to lose it. He looked at his watch and swore. It had been hours now since he'd left them. He had to get back before they decided to move again. He used his wand to give himself some water and drank gratefully before he disillusioned himself and kept moving through the woods.

By the time he Apparated back to where he'd left his friends, he knew that they were gone. But he looked anyway, desperate for any sign of where they could have gone. But the bite of the cold November wind gave him no clues.

After a full week of searching for them, he admitted to himself that he needed help. He was starting to think that he'd gone crazy even. He'd wake in the night, convinced he could smell pomegranates in the autumn air. The smell of her shampoo made him ache inside and the image of those brown eyes, the flash of hurt in them made him search harder.

He slept in two hour intervals, forcing himself get up and to keep travelling, but he saw no signs of his friends. No sign that they were anywhere near here. He played with the Deluminator, watching the light turn on and off from his fire, wondering what the bloody point of the thing was. At one moment, he woke and could have swore he heard her voice, like she was right there with him, but when he turned he was alone in the wood.

After the second week, he knew that he needed to do something. He needed to get away and clear his head. They had the locket. That damned locket, the one that made him feel like his world was going to shit; that damned locket that had ruined everything. He needed advice, he needed a good kick in the arse. But the thought of going home, of telling his parents that he'd abandoned Harry and Hermione when they needed him most… he couldn't stand the disappointment. Fred and George weren't an option as Potter Watch had told him that they no longer had a safe flat in Diagon Alley. Charlie was in Romania. Percy was… he scowled. Percy was a git. Ginny was at Hogwarts and… Ginny… fuck!

He rubbed a hand over his tired face. Ginny had lived with a bloody horcrux for nine months. She'd fought it and she'd won and he wore the damn thing for a few hours and lost all sense of reason. If she learned how he'd abandoned Harry and Hermione because of that damn horcrux she'd hex his bits off.

Which left Bill.

He Apparated to the beach near Shell Cottage before he could talk himself out of it, feeling nervous as he looked out at the lights in the window. He stood out there a long time, staring at the windows, unsure of whether to move forward when the door opened and his brother's lanky form stepped out.

"Ron?"

Ron took a step forward. His brother's long red hair was pulled back in a low plait at his neck, loose pieces hanging near his face. One side had three long scars across his cheek and nose, down the side of his neck, but it did nothing to deter from his looks. The fang in his ear glistened in the moonlight and Ron took another step forward.

Something in Bill's expression made the last step the hardest, but then his brother's arms were around him and he was hugging him tightly.

"Are you okay? What happened? Where are Harry and Hermione? Ron?"

Ron let Bill pull him into the house. He heard Bill whisper something to Fleur as he was pushed into a chair and Bill began to turn his head to and fro as if examining him for injuries.

"Ron!"

Ron's blue eyes met his brother's gaze and he let out a slow breath. "You can't tell anyone I'm here."

Bill reached out, placing both of his hands on Ron's shoulders and the words came tumbling out.

How they were hunting down something to destroy Voldemort. How this cursed object that they needed had affected him. How they didn't know what they were doing. How he had let it get to him. How he had stormed off half-cocked, and how he couldn't find them again.

Fleur placed a bowl of thick beef stew and three large pieces of bread in front of him. Ron devoured it. He'd spent the last three weeks barely eating much outside of what he was able to hunt. But as the weather grew colder, rabbits had been harder and harder to come by. Bill poured him a glass of Firewhiskey when Fleur kissed her husband and went up to bed.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Ron whispered, staring at the Firewhiskey in his glass.

"What can I say, Ron? You're already beating yourself up. Did you run off half-cocked? Yes. Did you make a mistake? Yes. But you've realized that and admitting you're wrong is always the first step," Bill said quietly before he took a sip of his drink. "We know that you're hunting something. We know that the three of you went off on some mission that Dumbledore probably told Harry about. I know you're scared and you should be. Why can't I help? Let the Order help."

Ron shook his head. "It's not that, it's… it has to be us."

Bill nodded and took another sip of his whiskey. "You can stay here as long as you want. It's Christmas in two weeks. Take some time and think. If you need me, I'll be here."

Ron watched him go upstairs to his wife and he let out a slow breath, feeling slightly better. But when he crawled into a warm bed that night, he couldn't turn his brain off. All he kept seeing were those warm brown eyes widen in shock, in hurt, and then in anger as he'd stormed off. And he hated himself for it.

~ Lost in the Woods ~

Ron spent the next few weeks in a daze. He didn't say much to either Bill or Fleur, but he could see the worry in their eyes when they looked at him. He spent his days sitting on the cold beach, the Deluminator in his hand, trying to figure out why Dumbledore would have left him such a stupid thing. How was this important? Why did he need it?

And then he heard her voice.

"We can't."

He scrambled to his feet, sand flying everywhere, eyes wide. But he was alone on the sand.

He looked out at the crashing waves; the cold December wind whipped through him and his eyes moved back to the Deluminator in his hand. It had come from there. He knew it.

He flicked it again, but nothing happened.

But it gave him hope.

It was another week full week when he finally heard her voice again as he lay in the guest room.

"Let's just keep moving."

He knew that he hadn't imagined it that time.

But the more he played with the Deluminator, the more he started to imagine he was going crazy.

On Christmas morning, Bill left him alone when he refused to go to the Burrow. He'd taken a hot shower and then he'd lay there in the guest room, depressed and angry as he listened to the radio. The sound of his name from her lips made him sit up.

He reached for the Deluminator in his pocket. When he clicked it, the light in his bedroom went out just as usual, but this time a blue light lit up outside. Ron didn't hesitate. He grabbed his rucksack and got dressed, moving out to the light.

The little ball of light was hovering there as if it was waiting for him. When he got closer, it bobbed along like a beacon. He followed it slowly, unsure as to what he was doing and wondering if he'd finally cracked as he moved around the garden shed. Then suddenly, the light seemed to grow bigger; it flew directly into his chest, hovering over his heart. It was hot and heavy and he suddenly knew with absolute certainty where to go.

He didn't stop to question it. He didn't stop to think about the fact that some weird blue light had just flew into his chest. He just knew that he had to go where it brought him.

He Disapparated and arrived on the side of a snowy hill. He knew with every fibre of his being that they had to be there, but there was no sign of them. He swore he could feel her magical signature near him, swore she was nearby but when he called out uselessly, he got no response.

When darkness came over the hill, he knew he'd lost them so he pulled out the Deluminator again and again the blue light flew into him.

But it was another day before he found anything. He Apparated to the Forest of Dean and was convinced that he could smell pomegranates, but he saw no sign of them. He settled himself near a tree again, using a warming charm on himself and his eyes peeled. If he had to camp here he would, but he wasn't leaving without them. Darkness fell over the forest and he played with the Deluminator half-heartedly hoping to hear something else. To get another sign.

Then the flash of silver pranced past him and he scrambled to his feet.

A Patronus.

A stag.

Harry.

Wand out, he ran after the Patronus. He saw it glimmer behind a tree and then move forward and hover. He jogged through the freshly fallen snow, eyes peeled looking for Harry. He wondered why he had sent his Patronus. Did he know Ron was here? He didn't feel any remnants of Dementors nearby. He slowed his jog as he moved closer and then he saw the familiar messy-haired figure of his best mate following. The Patronus was standing on top of the ice over the frozen lake as if waiting for something.

Ron moved through the trees, stopping himself from calling out to his friend, but then he saw a shadow on the left and he turned, raising his wand, just as he heard a splash and saw Harry disappear into the water. The sliver of moonlight lit the ice up. Why the hell would Harry have decided to go for a swim in the middle of the night in a frozen lake? He turned back towards the shadow, but no one was there; when he looked back towards the lake, he realized that his friend hadn't broken the surface. He stepped closer and his heart jumped into his chest. That familiar messy hair was trapped under the ice. He pulled his shoes off without a thought and dove straight in.

He grabbed his friend's arms tightly and then saw the sword glimmering in the lake. Harry's fingers were reaching for it, but to no avail. He dove deeper, gripped the sword in one hand and Harry's arm in the other. But when he pulled, Harry fell like a rock; he saw the locket rise up around his neck like a vice and pull him under. Ron gripped the sword tighter and let go of his friend to rip the locket off his neck. As soon the locket was free, he grabbed Harry again and tugged. With a heave, he pulled Harry's body from the lake and dragged him up onto the shore.

Harry was choking, but breathing as he coughed up the frozen water himself. He clung tightly to the sword in his hand, eyes taking it in for the first time — the gold and rubies on the handle — and his eyes widened. He'd seen it once more. In his best mate's hands, the day the he'd rescued Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets.

Ron shivered in the cold, brushing his sopping wet hair back out of his face and turned to look at Harry. He was bent over on the ground, still coughing and shivering.

"Are — you — mental?" he panted, his blue eyes piercing his friend's choking form.

Harry's green eyes shot up to his in surprise.

Ron was pointing with the sword as he spoke, the locket hanging from his other hand. "Why the hell didn't you take this thing off before you dived?"

"It was y-you?" Harry said, his teeth chattering.

"Well, yeah," Ron said, giving his friend a confused look.

"Y-you c-cast the doe?"

"What? No, of course not! I thought it was you doing it!"

"My Patronus is a stag."

"Oh, yeah, I thought it looked different. No antlers."

Ron watched Harry bend to pull his clothes shirt back on, followed by a warm sweater and then then Hermione's wand. He swallowed nervously. Why did Harry have Hermione's wand?

"How come you're here?"

His face fell. Of course, Harry would need more than him yelling at him like an idiot.

"Well, I've — you know — I've come back. If —" He cleared his throat. "You know… if you… still want me."

Harry stared at him for a long moment and Ron wondered if he'd truly mucked it up one too many times. Harry's eyes were on the locket and the sword that Ron was holding. He looked down at the objects, wondering if Harry was going to demand him to hand them over and to tell him to leave.

"Oh, yeah: I got it out," he said, offering the sword to Harry. "That's why you jumped in, right?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "But I don't understand. How did you get here? How did you find us?"

"Long story," Ron said slowly. "I've been looking for you for hours, it's a big forest, isn't it? And I was just thinking I'd have to kip under a tree and wait for morning when I saw that deer coming, and you following."

"You didn't see anyone else?"

"No," Ron said, looking around. "I —" He looked over at the two trees a few yards away where he had thought he'd seen a shadow before he'd been distracted by Harry jumping in. "— I did think I saw something move over there, but I was running to the pool at the time, because you'd gone in and you hadn't come up, so I wasn't going to make a detour to — hey!"

Harry was already hurrying to the place Ron had indicated. The two oaks grew close together; there was a gap of only a few inches between the trunks at eye-level, an ideal place to see, but not be seen. The ground around the roots, however, was free of snow and Ron could see no sign of footprints. Harry walked back to where Ron stood waiting, still holding the sword and the Horcrux.

"Anything there?" Ron asked.

"No," Harry said.

"So how did the sword even get into that pool?"

"Whoever cast the Patronus must have put it there."

They both looked at the ornate silver sword, its ruby hilt glinting a little in the light from Hermione's wand.

"You reckon this is the real one?" Ron asked, but he already knew the answer.

"One way to find out, isn't there?" Harry said.

The Horcrux was still swinging from Ron's hand. The locket was twitching slightly. Ron knew that the thing inside it was agitated again. It had sensed the presence of the sword and had tried to kill Harry in the lake rather than let him grab it. He watched as Harry looked around, holding Hermione's wand high, and then marched over to a flattish rock lying in the shadow of a sycamore tree.

"Come here," Harry said, urging him over.

Harry brushed snow from the rock's surface, and held out his hand for the Horcrux. When Ron offered the sword, however, Harry shook his head.

"No, you should do it."

"Me?" Ron exclaimed in surprise. "Why?"

It shouldn't be him, he thought. It wasn't meant to be him.

"Because you got the sword out of the pool. I think it's supposed to be you."

Ron stared at him. He knew that Harry wasn't saying that to be kind or to be generous. He knew that Harry was right. He had been the one to take the sword from the lake, not Harry, and if they had learned anything from the sword appearing to Harry in the Chamber of Secrets all those years ago, it was the incalculable power of certain acts.

"I'm going to open it," Harry said. "Then you stab it. Straightaway, okay? Because whatever's in there will put up a fight. The bit of Riddle in the diary tried to kill me."

"How are you going to open it?" Ron asked. The thought of a bit of You Know Who coming out to try to kill him wasn't exactly the way he was looking to end his night.

"I'm going to ask it to open, using Parseltongue," Harry told him.

The thought sent terror through Ron like he couldn't explain. This damn locket was the reason he'd left. This damn locket had almost ruined his friendship with the two people who meant the most to him in the world outside of his family. This damn locket had probably cost him any chance he could potentially have with Hermione.

"No!" Ron said. "No, don't open it! I'm serious!"

"Why not?" Harry asked. "Let's get rid of the damn thing, it's been months—"

"Because that thing's bad for me!" Ron exclaimed, backing away from the locket on the rock. "I can't handle it! I'm not making excuses, Harry, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affected you and Hermione, it made me think stuff — stuff I was thinking anyway, but it made everything worse. I can't explain it, and then I'd take it off and I'd get my head on straight again, and then I'd have to put the effing thing back on — I can't do it, Harry!"

He had backed away, the sword dragging at his side, shaking his head.

"You can do it," Harry said calmly. "You can! You've just got the sword, I know it's supposed to be you who uses it. Please, just get rid of it, Ron."

The sound of his name made him stare at his friend. Harry's hair was still wet, water droplets still running down the back of his neck. His eyes were focused and clear and that damn stubborn look was staring him in the eye. Ron swallowed and let out a long slow breath before he nodded and moved back toward the rock.

"Tell me when," he croaked.

"On three," Harry said, looking back down at the locket and narrowing his eyes. "One… two… three… open."

The last word came as a hiss and a snarl and the golden doors of the locket swung wide with a little click.

Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and handsome as Tom Riddle's eyes had been before he turned them scarlet and slit-pupiled.

"Stab," Harry said, holding the locket steady on the rock.

Ron raised the sword in his shaking hands: The point dangled over the frantically swivelling eyes, and Harry gripped the locket tightly. Ron stared at the eye, imagining blood rushing from it, pouring down the sides and his stomach heaved and then a voice hissed out from the Horcrux.

"I have seen your heart, and it is mine."

"Don't listen to it!" Harry said harshly. "Stab it! Don't let it talk to you!"

"I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible…"

"Stab it!" Harry shouted; his voice echoed off the surrounding trees.

Ron heard him, but the tip of the sword trembled near the eye and he couldn't help but gaze down into Riddle's eyes. He couldn't help but listen to the words that had haunted him his entire life.

"Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter… Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend… Second best, always, eternally over-shadowed…"

"Ron, stab it now!" Harry bellowed.

Ron raised the sword still higher, and as he did so, Riddle's eyes gleamed scarlet. Out of the locket's two windows, out of the eyes, there bloomed, like two grotesque bubbles, the heads of Harry and Hermione, weirdly distorted.

Ron yelled in shock and backed away as the figures blossomed out of the locket, first chests, then waists, then legs, until they stood in the locket, side by side like trees with a common root, swaying over Ron and the real Harry, who had snatched his fingers away from the locket as if it burned.

"Ron!" he shouted, but the Riddle-Harry was now speaking with Voldemort's voice and Ron was gazing, mesmerized, into his face.

"Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence… We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption —"

"Presumption!" echoed the Riddle-Hermione, who was more beautiful and yet more terrible than the real Hermione. She swayed, cackling, before Ron, as he stared up at her in horror. She was ethereally beautiful, too beautiful, not the girl he loved but she was her and it scared him.

"Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter? What have you ever done, compared with the Chosen One? What are you, compared with the Boy Who Lived?"

"Ron, stab it, STAB IT!" Harry yelled.

But Ron didn't move. His eyes were wide, and the Riddle-Harry and the Riddle-Hermione were reflected in them, their hair swirling like flames, their eyes shining red, their voices lifted in an evil duet. Their arms entwined around each other, leaning in to kiss.

"Your mother confessed," sneered Riddle-Harry, while Riddle-Hermione jeered, "that she would have preferred me as a son, would be glad to exchange…"

"Who wouldn't prefer him? What woman would take you? You are nothing, nothing, nothing to him," crooned Riddle-Hermione, and she stretched like a snake and engulfed herself around Riddle-Harry, wrapping him in a close embrace: Their lips met.

Every fear he'd ever felt culminated in that kiss and he closed his eyes. No, it wasn't real, he thought. This wasn't real. He raised the sword high, his arms shaking.

"Do it, Ron!" Harry yelled.

Ron looked toward him and as Harry looked at him, he knew that Harry could see all of it just as clearly as he could, and shame washed over him. He gripped the sword tighter and slashed it downward with all of his strength. There was a clang of metal and a long, drawn-out scream. Harry whirled around, slipping in the snow, wand held ready to defend himself: but there was nothing to fight. The monstrous version of Harry and Hermione were gone.

Ron stood there with the sword held slackly in his hand, looking down at the shattered remains of the locket on the flat rock. From the corner of his eye, he saw Harry come to stand next to him, but neither of them spoke. He felt the tears pool in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He saw Harry bend down to pick up the broken locket. The sword had pierced the glass in both windows: Riddle's eyes were gone, and the stained silk lining of the locket was smoking slightly. The thing that had lived in the Horcrux had vanished; torturing Ron had been its final act.

Harry and Hermione. Hermione and Harry.

The sword clanged as Ron dropped it. He was shaking, but not from the cold. It wasn't true, he thought. He knew how Harry felt about Ginny, he did, but Hermione… did she want Harry?

Harry crammed the broken locket into his pocket, knelt down beside Ron, and placed a hand cautiously on his shoulder. His voice was low when he spoke.

"After you left, she cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didn't want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone…" Harry took a slow breath before he continued. "She's like my sister. I love her like a sister and I reckon she feels the same way about me. It's always been like that, I thought you knew."

Ron did not respond, but he turned his face away from Harry and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Harry got to his feet again and walked to where Ron's enormous rucksack lay yards away, discarded as Ron had run toward the pool to save Harry from drowning. He hoisted it onto his own back and walked back to Ron, who clambered to his feet as Harry approached, eyes bloodshot but otherwise composed.

"I'm sorry," he said in a thick voice. "I'm sorry I left. I know I was a… a… "

Ron looked around at the darkness, as if hoping a bad enough world would swoop down upon him and claim him. But he didn't know what to say.

"You've sort of made up for it tonight," Harry said. "Getting the sword. Finishing of the Horcrux. Saving my life."

"That makes me sound a lot cooler than I was," Ron mumbled.

"Stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was," Harry said, a small smile on his lip. "I've been trying to tell you that for years."

Simultaneously they walked forward and hugged, Harry gripping the still-sopping back of Ron's jacket.

"And now," Harry said as they broke apart, "all we've got to do is find the tent again."

But it was not difficult. Though the walk through the dark forest with the doe had seemed lengthy, with Harry by his side the journey back seemed to take a surprisingly short time. Harry led him into the tent, but Ron lagged a little behind him.

It was gloriously warm after the pool and the forest, the only illumination through the bluebell flames still shimmering in a bowl on the floor. Hermione was fast asleep, curled up under her blankets, and didn't move until Harry had said her name several times.

"Hermione!"

She stirred, then sat up quickly, pushing her hair out of her face.

"What's wrong? Harry? Are you all right?"

"It's okay, everything's fine. More than fine. I'm great. There's someone here."

"What do you mean? Who —?"

She looked up then and saw Ron. He stood there, still holding the sword and dripping onto the threadbare carpet. Harry backed into a shadowy corner, slipped off Ron's ruck-sack, and attempted to blend in with the canvas.

Hermione slipped out of her bunk and moved like a sleepwalker toward Ron, her eyes upon his pale face. She stopped right in front of him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide. Ron gave a weak, hopeful smile and half raised his arms.

Hermione launched herself forward and started punching every inch of him that she could reach.

"Ouch — ow — gerroff! What the —? Hermione — OW!"

"You — complete — arse — Ronald — Weasley!"

She punctuated every word with a blow: Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced.

"You — crawl — back — here — after — weeks — and — weeks —oh, where's my wand?" She looked as though ready to wrestle it out of Harry's hands and he reacted instinctively.

"Protego!"

The invisible shield erupted between Ron and Hermione. The force of it knocked her backward onto the floor. Spitting hair out of her mouth, she leapt up again. Ron thought putting the shield up was a stroke of genius on Harry's part as he wasn't entirely sure that the tiny witch in front of him wouldn't have killed him.

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed. "Calm —"

"I will not calm down!" she screamed. Her eyes were full of emotion and Ron knew that she was ready to break. "Give me back my wand! Give it back to me!"

"Hermione, will you please —"

"Don't you tell me what to do, Harry Potter!" she screeched. "Don't you dare! Give it back now! And YOU!"

She was pointing at Ron in dire accusation: It was like a malediction, and Ron automatically took a few steps back.

"I came running after you! I called you! I begged you to come back!"

"I know," Ron said. "Hermione, I'm sorry, I'm really —"

"Oh you're sorry!"

She laughed, a high-pitched, out-of-control sound; Ron looked at Harry for help, but Harry merely grimaced his helplessness.

"You come back after weeks — weeks — and you think it's all going to be all right if you just say sorry?"

"Well, what else can I say?" Ron shouted, feeling angry now. She had every right to feel this way and that somehow made it worse.

"Oh, I don't know!" Hermione yelled with awful sarcasm. "Rack your brains, Ron, that should only take a couple of seconds —"

"Hermione," Harry interjected, giving her a look. "He just saved my —"

"I don't care!" she screamed. "I don't care what he's done! Weeks and weeks, we could have been dead for all he knew —"

"I knew you weren't dead!" Ron bellowed, drowning her voice for the first time, and approaching as close as he could with the Shield Charm between them. "Harry's all over the Prophet, all over the radio — they're looking for you everywhere! All these rumours and mental stories, I knew I'd hear straight off if you were dead, you don't know what it's been like —"

"What it's been like for you?"

Her voice was now so shrill only bats would be able to hear it soon, but she had reached a new level of indignation that rendered her temporarily speechless, and Ron seized his opportunity.

"I wanted to come back the minute I'd Disapparated, but I walked straight into a gang of Snatchers, Hermione, and I couldn't go anywhere! By the time I got back to that bit of riverbank where we'd been… you'd gone."

"Gosh, what a gripping story," Hermione said in the lofty voice she adopted when wishing to wound. "You must have been simply terrified. Meanwhile we went to Godric's Hollow and, let's think what happened there, Harry? Oh yes, You Know Who's snake turned up, it nearly killed both of us, and then You Know Who himself arrived and missed us by about a second."

"What?" Ron said, gaping from her to Harry, but Hermione ignored him.

"Hermione," Harry said quietly. "Ron just saved my life."

She appeared not to have heard him.

"— One thing I would like to know, though," she said, fixing her eyes on a spot a foot over Ron's head. "How exactly did you find us tonight? That's important. Once we know, we'll be able to make sure we're not visited by anyone else we don't want to see."

Ron glared at her, then pulled a small silver object from his jeans pocket.

"This."

She had to look at Ron to see what he was showing them.

"The Deluminator?" she asked, so surprised she forgot to look cold and fierce. The fact that he knew she was trying, made his lips curve.

"It doesn't just turn the lights on and off," Ron told them. "I don't know how it works or why it happened then and not any other time, because I've been wanting to come back ever since I left. But I was listening to the radio really early on Christmas morning and I heard… I heard you."

He was looking at Hermione.

"You heard me on the radio?" she asked incredulously.

"No. I heard you coming out of my pocket. Your voice," he held up the Deluminator again, "Came out of this. And it wasn't the first time."

"And what exactly did I say?" Hermione asked, her tone somewhere between skepticism and curiosity.

"My name. Ron. And you said… something about a wand…"

Hermione turned a fiery shade of scarlet.

"So I took it out," Ron went on, looking at the Deluminator, "and it didn't seem different or anything, but I was sure I'd heard you. So I clicked it. And the light went out in my room, but another light appeared right outside my window."

Ron raised his empty hand and pointed in front of him, his eyes focused on something neither Harry nor Hermione could see.

"It was a ball of light, kind of pulsing, and blue, like you get around a Portkey, you know? It went right into my chest, and then — it just went straight through. It was here," he touched a point close to his heart. "I could feel it, it was hot. And once it was inside me I knew where I was supposed to go, I knew it would take me where I needed to go. I knew it would take me to… you."

Hermione stared at him and he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I, um… I kept hoping that one of you would show yourselves in the end — and Harry did. Well, I saw the doe first, obviously."

"You saw the what?" Hermione said sharply.

They explained what had happened, and as the story of the silver doe and the sword in the pool unfolded, Hermione frowned from one to the other of them, concentrating so hard she forgot to keep her limbs locked together.

By the time Harry and Ron finished explaining everything, Hermione looked pensive again. She put the vanquished Horcrux into the beaded bag, then climbed back into her bed and settled down without another word.

Ron passed Harry the wand he'd stolen from the Snatcher.

"About the best you could hope for, I think," Harry murmured.

"Yeah," Ron said, grinning at his friend. "Could've been worse. Remember those birds she set on me?"

"I still haven't ruled it out," Hermione's muffled voice said from beneath her blankets.

Harry nodded and gestured to the outside. "I'll take watch tonight."

When he disappeared outside of the tent, Ron approached Hermione's cot.

"I didn't say that you could sit here," she said stubbornly as he sat on the side of it.

"I know," Ron said quietly. "Are you going to set those mad birds on me again?"

Hermione's brown eyes met his and he could see the anger still glistening there.

"I'm sorry. I know that's not enough. I know it's not what you need to hear. It was the locket, you were right, but it was me too. The locket just made what I was already feeling that much more intense, that much bigger, and I let it in. I didn't mean to make you ashamed of me. I didn't mean to let you down. You and Harry are… you're so important, Mione, so… I need you."

Hermione's eyes softened slightly and she sat up, lowering the blankets. Ron took a moment to admire her. Her bushy curls hung down her back and he realized with a jolt that she was wearing his old maroon jumper with the faded R on it. The sight of her in his clothes sent an odd thrill through him.

"You're wearing my jumper."

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself. "I was cold and you left it."

He nodded and his hand reached out to cup her face in his hands. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that's what you need from me."

Hermione trembled a moment and then she was hugging him and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling relief wash over him. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck, smelling pomegranates and he smiled.

"Pomegranates."

"What?" she murmured against his shoulder.

"Your hair," he said simply.

Hermione pulled away a little to look at him and he swallowed.

"Your hair smells like pomegranates."

"It's my shampoo. I washed it in the lake a few hours ago."

Ron nodded. "I like it."

Hermione stared at him. "Were you really looking for us the whole time?"

"Not the whole time," he admitted. "When I couldn't find you, I became disheartened and I dragged myself to Bill and Fleur's, too embarrassed to go home. I stayed there about two weeks before I heard your voice."

"My voice?" she whispered.

Ron bent his head down, resting his forehead against hers. "Yes."

"You said the Deluminator it… you said you knew it would bring you to me — to us?"

He nodded. "To you."

And then he was kissing her.

He didn't know who had moved first and frankly, he didn't care. Her lips were on his and it was better than anything he had ever imagined. She tasted like peppermint and her lips were so soft, so moist and he leaned into her, deepening the kiss, his hands framing her face. When he pulled back, her lashes fluttered open and those brown eyes met his.

"You're my true north, Mione."

Hermione's eyes widened. "What?"

"You. You're my true north. It was your voice that led me back to you. It was you I needed to find, to apologize to. I was lost without you. Not just physically, but…" His lips met hers again softly. "I'm so in love with you I can't think straight."

Hermione trembled in his arms. "You — you love me?"

"Yes," he answered, surprising himself at his boldness.

He didn't know if it was the kiss or the fact that he'd just defeated a Horcrux that showed him Hermione kissing Harry and had listened to his best mate tell him that Hermione was like a sister to him, but he knew that he needed to say the words to her. Even if she didn't love him back. Even if she pitied him, he needed to pluck out his courage and say them once and for all.

"I need you. Not just because you're this big brain that's always saving my sorry arse, but because when you're not around it's like I can't find my way. Up is down, day is night and you're my true north and without you I'm just… lost in the woods. Fuck, that's stupid. Mione, I just… it's always been you, yeah, and will you just say something before I make an even bigger fool out of myself than normal?"

Hermione slipped her arms around his neck, moving closer and climbed into his lap making his breath hitch. "It wasn't stupid. You're my landmark, too. You're the boy who saved me from a mountain troll. The one who makes sure I take breaks from studying. The one who needlessly defends my honour from prats like Malfoy. When you left… I felt like I lost part of myself. I love Harry, but he's not you and I needed… you."

Ron framed her face again and kissed her softly. "I'm sorry I'm such a git."

"I'm sorry I punched your arms."

"I deserved it," he said, kissing her nose. "I love you, Hermione Granger."

Hermione pressed her lips to his and she let out a slow breath. "I love you, too."

And then they were kissing again. Long kisses, deep kisses, slow kisses. His hands slid down her back, tangling in her hair and lower and he slipped them under the maroon jumper.

"I like seeing you in my clothes," he said, kissing her throat.

Hermione made a 'mmm' sound in response before she pulled the jumper over her head along with her pyjama top. Ron's eyes widened. She was more beautiful than any fantasy.

"Hermione…"

"I want you to make love to me, Ron."

"Hermione…"

She shook her head. "No. I don't want you to think about it. I don't want to stop and think about tomorrow. I just want… you. Harry and I almost died the other day and I… I don't want to have any regrets. I want you."

Ron swallowed, his hands coming up to cup her breasts. "And tomorrow?"

Hermione smiled at him. "I hope you'll still want me."

Ron leaned in to kiss her. "I always want you."

Then he was pushing her back onto the cot, his lips moving over her breasts, sucking those light brown nipples and stroking and kneading. He pulled off his own jumper and tee shirt and her hands slid over his chest and he basked in the sensation of her touching him. Her hands on him. Her hands stroking him. When she undid his trousers, he kissed her hard.

"Are you sure?"

Hermione's brown eyes met his and she bit her bottom lip. "Yes."

Ron undressed quickly except for his boxers and moved his body back over hers. He kissed her deeply, hands roaming and he let his mouth trail down her neck, her breasts, her stomach and he slowly pulled down her pyjama bottoms revealing soft blue cotton knickers. He looked up into her eyes before he knelt on the floor next to the cot and pressed a kiss to her knickers.

Hermione let out a soft sigh.

Ron slowly slid her knickers down, eyes widening as he looked his fill. She was so beautiful. Soft brown curls marked her sex and he bent his head to look closer, examining the pale skin of her thighs and he let his fingers slide over her in exploration. He remembered something Bill had told him; a bud, Bill had called it. The clit. He let his fingers slide through the fold and she let out a soft cry and he trailed his finger through the wetness in fascination. He knew he found the mysterious bud when she bucked against him.

She was so warm and wet and he rubbed his finger over her clit experimentally, unsure on the amount of pressure he was supposed to use.

"Yes…" she moaned when he pressed a little harder so he began to rub more fiercely.

Ron watched in amazement the way her hips arched off the cot, the way she reacted to his touch and without thinking about the fact that he had no idea what he was doing, he leaned in and licked her.

The response from her was all he needed to tell him that had been a good choice.

He let his tongue explore her folds, licking and nibbling, suckling her clit into his mouth. He was amazed at how she responded, fascinated by the sounds she made, and so hard he thought he would burst. The feel of her in his mouth, the taste of her on his tongue… he wanted to touch himself, to make himself come when she did. Because he was definitely making her come.

No sooner had the thought filled his head that her legs clamped around his head and she cried out, a long soft moan that vibrated through his body. He kept kissing her, licking and sucking until she dragged her fingers through his hair and tugged him up.

"How did you… that was amazing."

Ron smiled and kissed her lips. "You're amazing."

Then he was back in the cot with her, kissing and stroking and she slid her hand down into his boxer shorts. The moment her hand wrapped around him, he bit his lip.

"Fuck, I'm not going to make it."

Hermione kissed him. "Yes, you will."

She pulled his boxers down, eyes widening as his cock sprung free and pointed at her of it's own accord. She reached out to touch him, stroking him softly and he bit his lip. Yeah, if she kept that up, he most definitely wasn't going to make it.

He pulled her hands away, kissing her fingers and then settled himself between her legs. He grabbed his wand from the floor and murmured the contraception charm before he kissed her.

"Are you ready?"

Hermione only nodded and he gripped himself in one hand, holding her hip in the other. He slowly guided himself into her. She let out a squeak and he stopped.

"I'm sorry."

"No," she murmured, holding his arms. "No, it's okay. Just…" She let out a slow breath. "Okay."

Ron pushed in a little deeper and she bit her lip. He hovered above her, unsure on how to proceed. She felt incredible. Warm and hot and wet, and clamped around his cock like the goddess she was. He had thought her wrapped around his tongue had felt good, but this… he trembled above her, too afraid to move, too afraid he'd hurt her more. But then she was pushing on his hips, arching up to take more of him and then he was in, fully sheathed inside of her, and it was glorious.

Hermione reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. "Make love to me, Ron."

It was all the encouragement he needed.

He pulled out, a little further than he intended and missed going back in, but he straightened himself out and sunk back into her glorious heat. With every thrust, he could feel himself building more and more and he watched her eyes as he did. She wasn't biting her lip anymore but encouraging him with soft nods and kisses and when he moved faster, she let out a soft moan.

And then he was coming and coming and he could only hold on as he emptied himself inside of her, finally feeling like he could relax. He rolled onto his back, pulling her with him and nestling her into his side as they caught their breath.

"So… that happened."

Hermione chuckled against his chest, kissing the skin there. "It did."

Ron ran his hand up and down her naked back before he spoke. "Was it… er, I mean… was it okay? I didn't hurt you?"

Hermione lifted her head to kiss him deeply. "It was lovely."

Ron nodded and cleared his throat. "Er, good. I thought it was bloody fantastic."

Hermione kissed him again. "That too."

He wasn't sure how long they lied there, holding each other, but he soon felt a stirring between his legs again and hoped Hermione didn't notice. But she did, because her hand wrapped around it.

"Someone's ready for another round."

Ron smiled. "Well, you know, that thing has a mind of its own."

She stroked him firmly, long strokes along his length until he was standing at full attention once more. "Maybe we should give it what it wants."

Before he could respond to that she was lowering herself over him and he was once more trapped in that wet heat. But this time, Hermione was on top and it felt different. He watched in amazement as his cock slid in and out of her, the way she lay her palms flat against his chest, hips moving back and forth as she rode him and he thought he'd never seen anything so beautiful. He held her hip in one hand, the other reaching to where those dark curls were and he slid his fingers over her. He fumbled a bit but when he brushed her clit, she moaned so he began to rub it in a circular motion that made her ride him harder.

"Ron," she breathed. "Yes, Ron!"

He leaned in to kiss one of those beautiful bouncing breasts and the moment he did, he lost it and groaned as he came. His fingers slid out of her as he locked around his orgasm and as he came down from his high noticed her fingers had picked up where he'd left off.

The sight of her touching himself made his sated cock twitch.

And then she was coming and crying out his name, collapsing against his chest and breathing heavy.

Ron kissed her cheek, her lips, her nose. "That was bloody amazing."

Hermione smiled against his chest. "I heard it gets better the more we do it."

Ron's smile was quick. "Oh yeah? Well, I reckon we better keep practicing then." His lips trailed down her neck, down her throat to her shoulders. "I know how much my witch likes to study."

Hermione snuggled into his arms. "I love you."

"I love you," Ron whispered, kissing her cheek.

The wind howled outside of the tent and Ron sat up. "Harry's probably frozen out there. I'll go relieve his post, let him get some sleep."

Hermione flushed as she sat up. "Oh my God, do you think he heard us?"

Ron leaned in to capture her lips for a long kiss. "No. I think he moved away from the tent to let us talk in private."

He reached for the jumper on the floor and passed it to her. "I like it when you wear my clothes."

Hermione pulled the jumper over her head. "It smells like you."

"I'm going to assume that's a good thing." He kissed her again. "Get some sleep."

Then he got dressed and went outside to relieve Harry.

~ Lost in the Woods ~

They didn't talk about it; Ron knew that was because they were both too afraid to say the words. What would they do when it was over? How much longer would they be out here? If Harry suspected they were together, he didn't say anything, and neither Ron nor Hermione said the words aloud. Ron often woke to her crawling into his cot, snuggling into his arms, and he'd hold her.

They stole moments alone when they could. Soft kisses in the early morning light; long deep kisses in the cold. They made love when Harry went off for a bit. They talked about everything. Ron told her what he'd seen when the horcrux attacked and Hermione told him what Harry had: That she loved Harry like a brother. They spoke about Viktor and Lavender and how stupidly jealous they had both been. Ron told her how much it meant to him when he'd woken after being poisoned and found her sitting on the edge of his bed in the hospital wing. He told her that when he snogged Lavender he wished it was her and felt like the worst boyfriend in the world. Hermione told him how she'd tried to ask him out, but failed miserably and had worried she'd lost his friendship.

They spoke about her parents. Her fears that they wouldn't ever regain their memories and that she had lost them forever. He promised to go with her to Australia when it was all over and to help find them.

And together they worried about Harry.

On his eighteenth birthday, she woke him in the early dawn hours and snuck him out of the tent. He followed her down to the lake where they had washed the morning before and they'd lied down in the cool grass. It was still cool, but the snow had melted and spring was in the air. He'd kissed her, smiling as she tugged at his pjs, and when his cock sprang free and that mouth had wrapped around him, he'd thought he'd died and gone to heaven.

He'd watched in amazement as those brown curls danced in the cool March breeze, those lips wrapped around his cock, and after she swallowed him, he kissed her senseless.

"Happy Birthday Ron," she'd whispered against his lips.

But still they never said the words aloud, and never in front of Harry.

Hermione confided in him that she thought Harry was watching Ginny on the Marauder's Map and Ron thought she was right. He didn't know what had happened between his best mate and his sister, but he knew that they were both stupid in love with each other.

He could relate to that.

He hoped that when all of this was over, the two of them would find each other again.

When the Snatchers found them two weeks later, he was almost happy for the action; anything to get out of the monotony of what they'd been dealing with day in and day out.

But then they'd been taken to Malfoy Manor.

And when he heard her screams, he lost all control.

When they arrived at Shell Cottage, he cradled her in his arms as she sobbed against his chest, her arm bloody and torn up. Fleur attempted to heal it, but Hermione pulled away from her, clinging to Ron desperately as he held her.

It took him thirty minutes to calm her down, but finally, she let him look at her arm. The carved wood oozed blood and he'd never wanted to kill anyone more than the woman who had marked her beautiful pale skin with the word: Mudblood.

Ron gently washed out the wound, cleaning it as tears rolled down Hermione's cheeks and he bandaged her up. He pulled his own jumper over his head and put it on her, cradling her in his arms and he rocked her until she fell asleep. He kissed her tenderly, tucking her into the bed in the guest room before he went downstairs.

"What the hell is going on, Ron?" Bill demanded. "You show up for the second time in as many months and this time all three of you look like you've been to hell and back! You bring a goblin, Ollivander, and two classmates who were imprisoned… Hermione's bleeding and crying, Harry's burying a house elf — what the bloody hell is going on?"

"Harry's burying a house elf — Dobby's dead?"

Bill nodded but then Ron was running outside in time to see his friend sit beside the grave he'd dug and he swallowed.

Bellatrix Lestrange would pay for this.

~ Lost in the Woods ~

Neither of them spoke when they made it into the Chamber of Secrets. They gathered up the basilisk fangs in silence, both of them knowing that this was it, the battle was before them. Hermione hugged him tightly from behind as he flew out of the chamber. It amused him how much she disliked flying.

They'd just stepped back into the girl's bathroom when Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Ron?"

He turned to look at her, eyes full of love. "We're going to get through this, Mione. I can feel it and then we're going to go to Australia and bring your parents home so that your father can ask my intentions."

Hermione smiled. "He only did that once."

"I was thirteen and hadn't even noticed girls yet."

"But he'd noticed that I'd noticed you and it worried him."

Ron blushed and pulled her up against him to kiss her. "I love you and my intentions are to make you happy for as long as you'll let me."

Hermione smiled at him. "Mine too. Let's go find Harry and tell him that we've got these."

Then they were off and running.

Harry was telling Ginny to go somewhere safe and Tonks was searching for Remus and Ron realized that despite all of the chaos; they'd forgotten something.

"We've forgotten someone!" Ron exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"Who?" Hermione asked, looking over at Ron in bewilderment.

"The house-elves, they'll all be down in the kitchen, won't they?"

"You mean we ought to get them fighting?" Harry asked.

"No," Ron said seriously, "I mean we should tell them to get out. We don't want anymore Dobbys, do we? We can't order them to die for us —"

There was a clatter as the basilisk fangs cascaded out of Hermione's arms. Running at Ron, she flung them around his neck and her lips were on his. Ron threw away the fangs and broomstick he was holding and responded with such enthusiasm that he lifted Hermione off her feet.

"Is this the moment?" Harry asked weakly, but Ron chose to ignore him. He gripped Hermione more firmly. "Oi! There's a war going on here!"

Ron and Hermione broke apart, their arms still around each other.

"I know, mate," Ron said. "So it's now or never, isn't it?"

And when his eyes met Hermione's he knew that she felt the same.

No matter what, this was it, and they would be doing it the way they did everything: Together.

With his hand in hers, they took a step towards Harry, ready to be his guard, to be what he needed them to be. His right and left shields.

Just like always.

Together until the end.

End Author's Notes:

My Inspiration:

Up till now the next step was a question of how

I never thought it was a question of whether

Who am I, if I'm not your guy?

Where am I, if we're not together forever?

Now I know you're my true north, 'cause I am lost in the woods

Up is down, day is night, when you're not there

Oh, you're my only landmark, so I'm lost in the woods

Wondering if you still care

But I'll wait for a sign that I'm on your path

'Cause you are mine

Until then, I'm lost in the woods

Thank you for reading and please review!