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Who: Harry and Hermione
Where: Backyard of Order HQ
When: 14 August, 2001; early afternoon
Status: Complete

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Hermione had been in the Library (no surprise) for the last few hours, mostly because there was still so much to do. Penelope's telegram had arrived and Hermione had no idea what to do. They couldn't break into St. Mungo's again, just like they couldn't break into Azkaban.

Fool me once... fool me twice...

Everything was weighing heavily on her. Knowing that there was a gravesite for Mr and Mrs Weasley, but not knowing where it was. Knowing that Penelope was under arrest but not knowing how to save her.

Rounding the corner, Hermione spotted Harry leaving his room. She felt badly. He'd not said much to her after she'd given him her journal and Hermione suspected it was due to the raw angry emotions in all the entries.

Catching up to him, she reached out and touched his arm. "Mind if I join you?"

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The light touch on his arm had instinctually caused him to reach for his wand before stopping himself a split-second later once seeing who it had been.

"Hermione, sorry I --" Harry threw a look over his shoulder toward the door leading to the backyard wondering if perhaps he should say he was heading to the loo or some other weak excuse before shaking his head. Weak, that was what it was. He was running from his friends when that was the last thing he needed to be doing right now.

Looking back at Hermione, he gave her a small smile and nodded. "Sure."

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Outside the grass was peppered with shadow as clouds moved across the sky. Hermione wrung her hands unconsciously as they walked, a habit developed from not knowing what to do with them when she knew that physical touch wasn't entirely welcome. The thestrals stood over near some of the trees near the back of the property and she focussed her gaze on them for a moment.

Hermione hated that she could see them. Too much death she had witnessed and been a part of. It made her ill to think about it. But she rarely spoke of that part of her own psyche.

"Are you angry with me?" Hermione blurted out the question before she could stop herself.

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Harry whipped his head around at Hermione's question, squinting at her through the sunlight. He opened his mouth to respond before closing it again as the question repeated itself in his mind. The shock from the question was quickly being overcome with anger, anger for himself for making Hermione even assume such a thought.

He focused back on the Thestrals a few yards away as they continued to walk. "I think the wrong person is asking that question right now, with all things considering." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave her a quick glance. "But no, I'm not angry with you, Hermione. I doubt I would have much right to after everything you've been through and --" Harry stopped himself short, his throat becoming suddenly dry at the thought of Hermione and her journal.

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She knew that all things considering meant the things she'd written about in her journal. "I'm sorry I forced you into reading that... A lot of that was written when I had no other outlet and screaming with Ron was getting me nowhere."

Why had she given him her journal to read in the first place? Partly because the conversations she'd held within the pages had been to him, or to her own personal manifestation of him.

"We both missed you terribly and didn't know how to manage..."

Hermione thought back to those months with Ron where arguing had become their main form of communication. Sometimes their only form of communication.

"I didn't see him for almost a whole year after our last big row... I know there was a lot of blame placed on you... I want to apologise for that."