WILDFLOWER, hermione granger.

oxxvi. storm born

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OXXVI. STORM BORN
twenty six

       THE NEXT MORNING WAS SPENT IN SILENCE. Harry doesn't question why Ivy's eyes were red-rimmed—or why her hands were trembling, or the cold facade on her face that reminds him of their days in Hogwarts. They packed up their things, and removed every evidence of ever being there.

       Hermione, eyes red from crying, clutches the beaded bag in one hand while the locket dangles from the other. She peers one last time toward the trees, then, without turning, reaches out her hand. Harry studies her, then steps forward, gently takes her fingers in his. He looked at Ivy, who seemed even reluctant to be near Hermione as if she had been the cause of Hermione's anguish.

       And after a moment, Ivy laced her arm through Hermione's on her other side. Instantly, they disapparated onto a windswept hillside. The moment they arrived, Hermione dropped Harry's hand and Ivy's arm, walking away from them, finally sitting down on a large rock, her face on her knees, shaking with what he knew were sobs.

Ivy clenched her jaw, Ron's words still echoing in her head. You've been abandoned by every family you had—Harry suddenly nudges her towards Hermione. "Go," He says softly.

She set her hard gaze on him, staring him down, before she eventually resigned, reluctantly coming over to Hermione's side. Ivy was scared Hermione would push her away, leave her too—abandon her, just like what Ron said.

Finally working up the courage, Ivy gingerly moved to wrap her arms around Hermione... and to her surprise, Hermione fell into her embrace, sobbing. Ivy's eyes prickled with tears, but she holds them in.

Ivy willed herself to be okay. She has to be, for Hermione's sake. Harry did the liberty of performing the protective spells around them, setting up the camp.

They did not discuss Ron at all over the next few days. Harry was determined never to mention his name again, Ivy took on the prospect of keeping watch every night with the locket, and Hermione seemed to know that it was no use forcing the issue, although sometimes at night when she thought he was sleeping and Ivy wouldn't hear, they would hear her crying.

The panic attacks grew worse, but Ivy couldn't find it in herself to tell someone. She deserves it, she often thought as she turned the locket over in her hands while it hung from her neck.

Hermione was already distraught, and Harry had his own burden to think. This was Ivy's, and hers alone. No one else had to get involved.

Rule two—never show yourself, no one will like you. Ivy was already starting to think that that was true. That maybe Bellatrix was right.

The more she'd wear her scars on the surface, the more they wouldn't recognize her at all. And they'd leave. And Ivy couldn't have that—for fuck's sake, if what little family she had left her again, Ivy would lose it.

At the same time, Ivy felt angry. Ron had a point. Dumbledore left them virtually nothing to go off on—no leads, no clues as to where the horcruxes could they be, what would destroy them—

Had he stopped to think that they were just kids doing the adults' hardwork? She neglected to think that just because Harry Potter could be the only one capable of bringing Voldemort to his knees.