From Wiltshire, With Love

Chapter 47

"Aren't you terrified?"

Hermione glanced up from her book and turned to Harry. They were relaxing after combat training, sitting on a bench at the Westchester safe house porch with their legs propped up on the railing. Ron was off with Susan Bones somewhere, to Harry and Hermione's unspoken relief. She caught a glimpse of Ron and Susan once. He didn't have any issues snogging Susan, that was for certain. And Hermione was glad he was happy.

The trio had grown weary of the tense awkwardness caused by Hermione's rejection. She was glad those days were over.

Harry stared straight ahead into the setting sun, Butterbeer in hand. He appeared to be in one of his pensive moods, and was having more and more of them lately.

"Terrified of anything in particular?" she asked.

There was a war. They had no idea where the Hufflepuff Cup could be and were going to the Malfoy summer party on a lark. The Order was outnumbered, in hiding, and the best they could manage was to occasionally trip up Voldemort's operations. Admittedly, they were excellent at sabotage, and were good at staying hidden. But when it came down to it, the future of the war landed squarely on Harry, Hermione and Ron's shoulders and their ability to find that sodding cup.

It was a lot of responsibility. Aside from that, the Order was one successful safe house raid away from death and torture and that would be the end for all of them. At least they were nearly covered with Portkeys.

Thinking back to her conversation with Remus, Hermione knew she also had her moments where she pondered the future of the war and how tenuous their position was. Somedays winning seemed impossible, and she kept herself busy so as not to wallow in how helpless she felt.

Harry never talked about his insecurities with others – at least, not in regard to the war. Everyone looked up to him, suspected he was the key to Voldemort's defeat and he knew it. Aside from that, Harry was inspiring, he was brave, he raised everyone's morale and he ran headfirst into battle, never looking back. Harry was a natural born leader, and he would exchange his life for any one of them without giving it a second thought.

Hermione's chest constricted with sadness.

He would and he will.

She Occluded so he wouldn't see her grief. That skill had become incredibly helpful over the past several months, and she could do it without most people noticing now. At the snap of her fingers, just like her mentor had instructed.

Harry took a swig of his Butterbeer and held it in his cheeks for a second before swallowing.

"We're a bunch of kids," he said, waving his Butterbeer out towards the empty grounds where they had just finished combat training. After heaving a big sigh, he stared into his bottle. "Sometimes I wish I had parents."

Immediately knowing he said the wrong thing he turned to her. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"No, it's okay Harry. I-" Hermione was suddenly tired of constantly Occluding and keeping her feelings in all the time, so she allowed her tears to spill out.

"Hey," his deep voice became soft, and he pulled her into the warmth of his chest. She leaned into him while he rubbed her upper arm. "Hey. I'm sorry, that was thoughtless of me."

"No, it's just..." she sucked in her bottom lip. "We both wish we had parents." She continued, mumbling in his chest. "I'm worried that the memory charm can't be reversed." Her tears fell in plops on the fabric of his shorts.

"One thing at a time, right?" he murmured into her hair. "You'll cross that bridge when you come to it, and you won't be doing it alone. Ron and I will be there with you."