The Potter Twins and the Deathly Hallows {7}

21. Tell Me How

"I think I'm tired of getting over it, just starting something new again. I'm getting sick of new beginnings, and always coming to your defences. Guess it's good to get it off my chest, I guess I can't believe I haven't yet. You know I've got my own convictions, and they're stronger than any addictions. But no one's winning. So tell me how to feel about you now." - Tell Me How, Paramore

I did not expect Hermione's anger to abate overnight, and I am therefore very unsurprised to find her communicating solely by dirty looks and pointed silences the next morning. Ron responds by maintaining an unnaturally somber demeanor in her presence as an outward sign of continuing remorse. In fact, when all four of us are together, Harry and I feel like the only non-mourners at a poorly attended funeral. During the few moments Ron spends alone with Harry and I, however (collecting water and searching the undergrowth for mushrooms), Ron becomes shamelessly cheery. 

"Someone helped us," he keeps saying. "Someone sent that doe. Someone's on our side. One Horcrux down, guys!"

On the other hand, on the odd occasion that Hermione and I are alone, she's taken to asking me questions about Draco and George, the answers to which usually end with her blushing and hurriedly changing the topic to Horcruxes. 

Bolstered by the destruction of the locket, we set to debating the possible locations of the other Horcruxes, and even though we have discussed the matter so often before, I feel optimistic, certain that mire breakthroughs will succeed the first. Hermione's sulkiness can not mar my buoyant spirits: The sudden upswing in our fortunes, the appearance of the mysterious doe, the recovery of Gryffindor's sword, and above all, Ron's return, makes me so happy that it is difficult to keep a straight face. 

Late in the afternoon Harry and Ron escape Hermione's baleful presence, under the pretense of scouring the bare hedges for nonexistent blackberries. Harry, I hope, is finally telling Ron the whole story of our wanderings up until now, while I attempt to placate Hermione, who has tucked herself away in a book at the mouth of the tent. 

"Did Ron tell you?" I say quietly, trying to fill the awkward silence. "It's a good thing we got into the habit of saying You-Know-Who, there's a Taboo on his real name now. That's how they found us on Tottenham Court Road." She does not look up from her book. "Well, I thought it was interesting," I add, defeated. 

Hearing the slight irritation in my voice, she glances up. "It's incredibly smart -- Haylee, what on earth are you doing?"

"What? Oh, right..."

I lower the small, handheld mirror from my face which I've been using to cover my scar with concealer. 

"I don't know," I say with a shrug. "I thought that maybe if we got caught out without the Cloak or Polyjuice Potion that the scars are the first thing that'll tip people off that it's us." 

Much to my surprise, she laughs. "Haylee, according to Ronald, your faces are plastered all over the Prophet. Do you really think that covering your scar is going to hide your identity?"

"That's what Harry said, too," I laugh, simply happy to see her forsaking her bad mood. "But I think he just didn't want me putting makeup on him."

A sudden roaring sound from across the campsite makes us both jump, our laughter cut short: Ron has just shouted, causing Harry to fall into the nearby hedge. I stifle another giggle, but Hermione scowls, setting her book down as the boys move further away. 

"You know, if you were serious about disguising yourself," she says tentatively, as if she expects her comment to anger or upset me, "you'd take off that bracelet."

I glance down at my wrist, where the silver charm bracelet Draco gave me in our fourth year still resides, the points of the tiny lightning bolt charm worn down over the years.