All's Fair In Love and War (Drarry)

Kreature And The Locket

Harry lay on the sofa staring up at the roof, he had been up for the last two hours. Hermione and Ron lay sleeping on the floor next to him; he was happy they were able for a lie-in. The last couple of months had been hard. Two months of study, but nothing had come to light about where the locket could be, nor the name of the ambiguous R.A.B. Sometimes he felt like resigning, letting the world fall to the power of darkness; then he remembered the whooping Mrs Weasley might give him if he did.

He was starting to question if they were even looking in the right direction. Were the initials significant, or did they need to take another root in discovering the locket? Maybe the decorations? The colour? The metal it was made of? What if it was a missing antique, maybe they could see if anyone had recently found it? If Dumbledore had been there, he would have probably already figured it out. He would have found out the name and clarified all of the other questions in an hour at most. Harry couldn't help but feel played, was he really the most adequate for this? If only the name had been signed in full.

"Who the hell signs in initials?" Harry whispered to himself, a sense of burden in his chest. He couldn't help but feel partially crushed.

"A man close to the recipient of the letter." A voice uttered.

Harry jumped at the unexpected speech, eyes flying down to see it had come from Hermione. The reply was reasonable, so he should have understood straight away. She sat up in her sleeping bag, smiling up at her friend's startled face. Her eyes were exhausted, but they swiftly seemed to be centring.

"Jesus Herm." The boy laughed, laying back down with his arm below his head. His heart still raced unevenly, seriously he needed to give the woman a chime of some sort. "How long have you been up?"

"Long enough to hear you speaking to yourself." She teased, yawning, and drawing her hair into a tight bun atop of her head to save brushing; it wasn't all that untidy to start with. "You stressed out?"

"Not stressed per se." The boy confessed. "I just feel like I'm waiting in purgatory, you know? Don't know what's waiting for us next, is it good or bad?"

"I do." She confirmed. She knew it must be particularly frustrating to him, seventeen years of Voldemort in his life. "We haven't got very far, have we? What do you want to try today?"

"Dark Curses maybe?" Harry asked with a small shrug. Hermione nodded, that could actually work. "But first I might make myself some breakfast. You got anything in that bag of yours?"

"Only a couple of months worth." The brunette woman laughed, a dismal smile taking over her face. Harry shook his head, amazed by her foresight. If it was him and Ron alone, they would have gone hungry by now. "What do you fancy?"

"What do you have?"

"Coffee and Toast?"

"Honestly?" Harry said, with a small chuckle. He could almost taste the liquid energy. "That sounds like bliss at the minute. Come on let's..."

They both fell silent as a loud clatter sounded from the direction of the kitchen, carrying them both to their feet. Ron sprang up after them, his sleepy eyes wide. His hair sat askew, making him look slightly wild.

"What was that?" He squeaked, wand already in hand.

"I dunno," Harry said, glancing towards Hermione with a raised eyebrow. "You wouldn't happen to have a logical answer?"

"Plenty reasonable." She nodded. "But none of them desirable. Come on."

Wands in battle position, they walked forward towards the kitchen in a triangle arrangement. Each looking in different directions, any movement a potential danger. What if some Death Eaters had broken in during the night? What if the kitchen was infested with Boggarts, took a look at Harry, and suddenly turned into Dementors. Harry's mind raced with potentialities. Had the Death Eaters actually finally understood where they were staying? Were they wandering into a fully-fledged trap?