Heartbeat

Chapter 5- Caught Red Handed

Hermione

"Where are we?" Harry asks, looking around the forest in awe. 

"Forest of Dean," I say quietly. "I came camping here once. With my mum and dad."

Harry shoots me a sympathetic look, and waves my wand, setting up the tent. We settle down inside, and he starts to make some tea. I let him do the work, my thoughts drifting to my parents. 

"Ron had no right to run away," I spit savagely. "He thinks he's the only one that's worried about his family? At least his parents remember who he is!"

But Harry doesn't seem to be listening to me; he's flipping through The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, and his eyes are filled with a sorrowful, yet livid look. 

The afternoon lapses into night, and I take the midnight shift, waiting for Harry to get up from the tent entrance. 

"Hermione!" he gasps, so suddenly that I jump. "Look, look at that!" 

I shift my attention to where Harry is pointing, letting out an almost identical gasp. A few yards away from the tent lies a tiny, glowing red rose. We rush to it, and Harry picks it up. 

"Blimey, Hermione this is . . ."

"Very suspicious," I say, frowning. 

I take my wand from Harry's pocket, muttering a few anti-jinxes and spells, tapping the rose.

"It seems alright," I concede after a few minutes. "It's not trying to track us or anything."

But Harry isn't listening to me, he's looking at the rose in an almost painful hope. 

"Hermione, do you think this could be from Ginny?" he asks, holding the rose as if afraid to break it. 

"I don't think so," I say, taking the rose from him. "She doesn't know where we are, Harry."

I run my fingers down rose, the soft petals tickling my fingertips. "There's no thorns on it. It's been magically modified Harry."

"Look, there's a note!" he says in excitement, picking up a very wet piece of parchment from the icy snow. 

Merry Christmas. I'm forever thinking of you . . .

"Do you think it could be from Ron?" I dare to ask, hoping it's true. 

"No," says Harry, rolling his eyes. "This is obviously for you though."

"What do you mean?" I ask, hurrying after Harry, back to the tent. "How are you sure it's not Ron?"

"I just know," Harry says, looking very disheartened. "It's not from Ginny either."

"Harry!" I realize suddenly, shaking his shoulder in delight. "I recognize this handwriting! It's the same as that small diary you have!"

Harry looks angry, and a little scared. "You had no right to touch that!"

"I didn't read whatever you wrote," I defend. "You said it gave advice, and I needed some!"

"Well, don't touch it," Harry grumbles. "The first thing I'll do is burn that damn diary."

"Who could have sent this?" I ask.

"A git, obviously," Harry says, irritated. "It probably wasn't meant for us Hermione."

"I'm keeping it," I say stubbornly. 

"Fine," Harry sighs. "But we have more important things to be thinking about. Like where to find that damn sword."

"Don't worry Harry," I reassure. "We'll find it."