The Invisible Wars

Chapter 18

Hermione woke up on her bed still wearing the clothes she had on the day before with a book resting on top of her chest. She must have fallen asleep last night while reading anything she could find about Patronus until she had to give up thinking and reading altogether. The answers, although she still could not believe, started to take shape in her mind. Her worry starting to ebb away like the tide on the sea, overflowing once to give way to clarity. She eyed the empty bed next to hers, looking for its occupant. Then as if summoned, the door opened and Ginny came in.

"You're oddly up late, are you feeling ill?" She looked at Hermione and crossed the room to join her. She was tall, rather angular in her late teenage years, and her face which was frowning down at her, looked fair.

"No." Hermione answered. "I'm starving."

"You skipped dinner last night, after training, you ran up here and never went out." Said Ginny, tilting her head to the side. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Hermione squirmed under her scrutiny. She wanted to tell her everything but could not take another living soul knowing about it, for verbalizing it seems like embracing it full on. "Positive, are you hungry at all?" She forced a smile and rose to her feet.

"Yeah you might want to eat your breakfast up here." Ginny said, wrinkling her nose in annoyance. "Harry and Malfoy are arguing downstairs in the kitchen, again."

"What about?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "The second mission. They couldn't agree on anything, and how could they? All they do is shout insults at each other, it's exasperating—I had to leave before I hex their mouths shut."

And sure enough, Ginny was right. Loud voices could be heard once she stepped out of their room. Her ginger cat emerged at the top of the stairs, probably walking away from the noise and looking for a quiet spot to continue an interrupted slumber. Hermione brushed the patch of fur behind its ear on her way down the stairs. She could hear his voice, it was unmistakably his, and her heart starts to pick up its beat.

"Do you have a death wish, Potter?" She heard him say.

"No." Harry answered. "Let's pick that brilliant head of yours then and see if you have a better idea—if the overdose of hair product hasn't disintegrated your brain yet, that is."

"Really—All you've suggested so far is nothing but proof that the Dark Lord had fried your brain leaving that ugly scar on your forehead."

"Still calling him the Dark Lord huh, Malfoy? Your loyalty must be hard to break."

On top of the voices, Hermione shook her head. She tried to ignore her hunger and glanced at the wall clock in the Burrow's living room, with all the extra hands designated for each member of the family. All of them indicating where they are except for Fred's, which was stuck in a blank space between Hogwarts and home. Two hours before lunch. She can wait, they must be done by then—even though her stomach grumbled in disagreement. She was about to walk back upstairs when she heard footsteps coming out of the kitchen, soon she was staring face to face with Draco, looking as stunned as she was. He fixed Hermione with piercing grey eyes and she was suddenly aware of her physical insufficiencies. Why hadn't she thought of brushing her hair before going down, or changing her clothes?

"There you are." He said, coldly.

But none of it should matter.

"Your best friend, who shall not be named because I really want to push him off a cliff at the moment thought it would be best if you two break into Greyback's hideout disguised as Death Eaters."

Her mind still foggy from sleep, Hermione gave a shudder. She catches Harry's eyes from inside the kitchen, something sombre in his expression. "So that's the second mission." She said to Draco. "But—why is it bothering you?"