The Centaur Clan

Eight- Traveling

"WAKE UP!"

An angry, growling voice yelled at them from above, his deep, stern tone making small fragments of dust fall from the ceiling of the cave and into Harry and Hermione's hair. Both of them stirred awake, the jacket that they were still using as a blanket falling off of them and onto the ground as they sat up. Hermione gazed up at the cave entrance, her eyes and mouth thick with sleep.

"What?" Harry says aloud.

"Today is a day for travel, you lovesick hooligans. So pack up your little jacket and be prepared for a short breakfast- we depart when the sun reaches the treetops." The centaur calls down to them, his voice gnarled and gruff.

Hermione gets to her feet and stretches, letting out a sigh that is visible as a puff of breath in the air. "Brilliant. It's freezing."

Harry stands up as well, offering her the jacket. "Take it." He says before she can protest. "I think we both made a sort of agreement last night that whenever this jacket isn't being used as a blanket, you're going to be wearing it."

Hermione shakes her head. "We did, of some sort, but that was only because I was tired and didn't know any better. I was in shock form my nightmare."

"Well," Harry grins at her. "perhaps you should become used to this new decision we settled while you were 'in shock', because it's not changing." He too looks up at the cave entrance, just as she had. "Bet you breakfast will be down in about ten minutes, maybe less."

Hermione meets his gaze for a second, and whatever sort of calm that Harry somehow had, she felt it, in a rush of brilliant and beautiful warmth. His green eyes stared back into hers, and for some reason, her worries vanished instantly.

But all too soon, she realises what's going on and breaks her gaze. "We should be getting ready." She says, turning away from him to grab a few leftover forks and spoons that had been cast to the floor from their previous meals, collecting them up into her hands and stuffing them into the large pockets of the coat Harry had insisted she wore.

"What are you doing with those?" Harry asks her, moving to help her pick them up.

"Well," she states calmly. "these were of no use to use in this cave, because we're trapped in here by magic and this steep climb that we have to be literally hoisted out of to make it outdoors. But, if the time comes when the only thing binding us is a bit of rope and a cleverly tied knot, I'm willing to bet that this butter knife," she holds it up. "will help us immensely."

Harry smiles. "Did I ever tell you how brilliant you are?"

She shrugs. "You may have mentioned it before."

As Harry and Hermione packed up the silverware, their breakfast was lowered down to them on a tray, as always. And a large beefy centaur was the one lowering it to the ground, saying the same threat as the last one had- if they tried anything, he would bash their noses into their faces.

Their breakfast consisted of a few pieces of dry toast- no butter, no jam, no marmalade. And obviously whoever made it had little to no experience with toast, for it was black on the edges. With it was two bottles of drinking water- the outside of the bottles were dusty and caked with dirt, and the water tasted strongly of plastic.

Nevertheless, their stomachs growled with hunger, and so they stuffed themselves with the 'food', and collected the silverware.

"You can never have too much." Hermione said as she zipped the pocket stuffed with silverware closed.

"Had we not been in the situation we are now," Harry responds. "I would have called you a hoarder."

Then, the time came, when the sun had reached the top of the trees, and outside a horn was blown, and the thumping of thousands of hooves above them was heard for a moment or two. And then when it was silenced, a face appeared above the entrance, opening the grate. "Don't try anything funny, or you'll both be missing an arm."