Obliviate -the lost week (Harmione)

Weight of secret memories

(Read HP7, chapter 19, p200, where Harry takes Ron to the camping site; editions needed are minor enough that they aren't worth reproducing the entire conversation here, you can do them yourselves. They haven't destroyed the horcrux, once the potion's ready I'll say so)

Once Ron's snores informed her that he was asleep, Hermione slid out of the bed and left the tent quietly. Harry was there, equally quiet, gaze lost to the horizon. She sat beside him, not touching.

Until then, they hadn't spoken, hadn't even thought of what Ron's return meant to the new and fragile relationship they had. Hermione was angry enough to the red-headed boy for having left; in her entire tantrum, not a single time had the witch thought of the previous week. Harry seemed to be happy of having his best male friend back. They had fell naturally to the roles they had played for years in the trio.

And now, what?

"He knows nothing" Harry informed the girl. "While we walked back, the subject didn't come to my mind"

It was an offering. A gift she maybe didn't want. She didn't answer.

He looked down and grasped a handful of snow, just to lift it and let it fall, and repeated. He was disturbed, despite his face being shadowed she could say so, simply by his shaking moves. They remained silent for a long time. So long, that she knew he wouldn't say another word.

And it was OK. Better than OK, actually. If he tried to apologize, or to give her a speech about putting a target on her, she would lose her temper. As if she could be in greater danger. As if it was possible to die twice. She had made her choices, willingly, and surprising as it was, she regretted none of them; her memories were precious to her. Regarding Ron... well, at some point he would notice something had changed –not that she could see him the same way-, but it was none of his business.

She opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again.

"I'll never stop being your friend, Harry" the girl whispered. "Above all, that's what you are to me."

He nodded once, swallowed, and that was it.

His friend didn't leave until dawn.

Harry sensed it more than heard it, and when he came into the tent, sure enough, Hermione was pale and shaking violently, visibly scared to death and... in Ron's arms. It took all of his self-control not to push him, growl to him or something. And still, walk to them, instead of leaving. He needed to be here. She needed him. Didn't she? But to see her receiving someone else's comfort was physically painful.

"What happened?!" he asked through clenched teeth.

"A nightmare" she said. "It's... nothing. It was only a nightmare."

She pushed herself straight and out of Ron's arms. She breathed.

"It was... about... Him..."

No way of mistaking the He. Her terrified expression said the name her lips couldn't pronounce, especially now.

"I don't remember much. Just... that I opened my mouth and I was speaking with His voice."

"Why? How? Like Harry? Is she possessed? Are you possessed?" Ron shot, her gaze shooting from one to the other.

Harry checked the locket, safely on his chest. No, she wasn't wearing it.

"I don't think so, Ron. It was... just a dream... a bad, bad dream."

"I think I have some chocolate somewhere" Ron offered.

They heard him search through his bag, empty it, muttering and complaining about not finding it as he moved away, probably expecting to do so somewhere else.