the Dalaverse

Hoo boy, look what I did. I wrote me some HP fic. The hell? I had to teach WordPerfect to recognize the word 'Muggle' again.

Anyway. Harry/Ron/Hermione, which seems to be my new OT3 (that is a subtle plea for recs, btw). SPOILERS FOR HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE. I repeat, SPOILERS.



Safety in Numbers


Harry sits on the edge of the neatly made bed, listening to a harsh call through the window. The cheap Muggle motel is bordered by the highway on one side and a thick copse of trees on the other. The thing making noise, whatever is, sounds like it’s dying. He can’t quite tell which side of the building it may be coming from.

He wonders if it’s disturbing their neighbors, few though they are. His own companions seem too deeply asleep to take notice. And he was awake long before the crying started – alert, dressed, wand in hand, his belongings packed and sitting by the door.

The sound breaks off suddenly and it is then that Hermione stirs, turning her head on the thin pillow. She opens her eyes and blinks a few times before registering the sight of Harry sitting on the bed. They gaze at one another for long moments, the silence broken only by a sleep snort from Ron. One of Hermione’s hands folds over his wrist, soothing him. The other she lifts, her arm stretching across the few feet separating them.

The mattress creaks as Harry rises. He tugs his trainers off, lets his jeans fall to a puddle on the stained carpet, and pulls his t-shirt over his head before finally taking the hand held stubbornly and patiently out for him. She says nothing, only presses closer to Ron as he slides beneath the coverlet, but he can hear her voice as clearly as if she’d spoken. Affectionate, assured, slightly exasperated – of course you couldn’t, Harry. Why do you keep fooling yourself?

And Ron, indignant at the very thought – after all this time, mate – what d’you want us to do, tie you to the bed? ...Hermione, is there a spell for that?

He hasn’t come especially close tonight. Not nearly as close as after Godric’s Hollow, when they might very well have needed rope or the Imperius curse to keep him in that cave, if the gash at Ron’s temple and the pallor of Hermione’s face as she slept hadn’t done so.

There are two more Horcruxes left, with countless dead-ends and faulty leads and near-misses to boot. The Order, meanwhile, could make great use of another brave Weasley and the cleverest witch in her year.

Hermione sighs as she drifts back to sleep, her breath warm against his neck. Ron’s arm curls around her, over her, his fingers sliding restlessly along Harry’s skin before they settle on his hip. A hoot echoes from the woodsy side of the motel – Hedwig scattering the vermin on the ground as she hunts for breakfast.

Harry knows it will only become harder the longer he puts it off.

But one more night, surely...

Surely that’s the least he owes them both.