Year 5 - Stockholm

Chapter 5

Inventory

"I just don't understand it, Hermione. You don't make any sense," Ron grumbled. "I always knew you were backwards in ways but this. This is mad."

The three best friends gathered at the sleepy-eyed table of Gryffindors, ready to head back to bed after breakfast before a day out on the town. A few sixth and seventh years looked rather peppy. Their bright smiling faces pulled larger scowls from those in need of more slumber. Late nights in Gryffindor Tower were not uncommon on Fridays and Saturdays. Younger years loved to celebrate freedom from their parents with boycotts on acceptable bedtimes. In the end, it did them less good.

Hermione rose at her usual time. She'd done a job with her hair. It was less poofy when she worked with it for a while in front of a mirror and a great deal of patience. It took twice as long since she was a bundle of nerves.

It was the day in Hogsmeade with Draco Malfoy.

She used both hands to sip from her teacup. "Thank you for that observation, Ronald."

"You're barmy."

"So, what's Malfoy up to these days?" It was Harry who spoke that time. "Bullying first years? Hexing everyone with backbone and a conscious?"

Hermione ventured a glance across the room. Draco's seat at Slytherin faced hers.

He wore casual clothes, all black, ready for an outing to the village. She pictured him somewhere in a town surrounded by Muggles, watching a sports match perhaps. A quite handsome bloke outside all the nonsense they found themselves in. In a perfect world.

She shrugged. "Most likely. It is Draco."

"Then what the bloody hell are you doing? He's evil. The whole lot of those Slytherins are in with Him. Malfoy especially," Harry ranted, careful to keep his voice low enough so another fight between his house mates didn't happen over if Voldemort was truly risen like many times before. "He probably wants to offer you up to Voldemort as a sacrifice."

The look of rage in his face as she glanced over his shoulder scared her. Harry was not in control of himself. It was a look she was well acquainted with over their many mischiefs over the years, and it was concerning how quick he heated to a fight. As if he couldn't wait.

He stared at an untouched plate, gripping his fork tighter and tighter.

It was not the time. The meeting took place today. She needed him on board.

"Are you ready for today?" She asked with the lightest tone possible.

To her right across the table, Ron reached for a second helping of sausage. He ate noisily. Juices squirted from the casing as he bit into a fresh one, clear fats ran down his chin. He took Harry watch duty very seriously, forgoing meals if it required, and since all appetite escaped Harry these days, it required a bit more frequently than he liked.

She tried her best to spend time with them both. Her best friends needed her. Yet, every time she came around with some offer of solution or help, Harry snapped and rushed off somewhere to sulk in shadows and torture himself with the thought of Voldemort out in the world.

No one believed him. They thought of him as a liar. She reminded herself of that many a time, but it still ached to see him turn against her as if she was one of them. Hermione never doubted that he came back. It was tearing her best friend apart. Only a powerful wizard could do that.

"Not really," he replied blandly.

"It will be very good for everyone to learn. From you. It will mean a great deal."