When the Bell Tolls - Dramione

14.

11:31pm

Harry's been spoiled by Ginny's Molly-taught cooking, Hermione thinks, because the tin of soup does not deserve a face with that much disgust. Or several spits into the rubbish bin.

"God, that's disgusting," Harry says gravely.

Hermione rolls her eyes, muttering, "It's not that bad, Harry."

Pruit intercepts Harry's bowl before the contents hit the rubbish, and Harry raises his eyebrows. "Good luck with that, mate."

"There's no indication he left by choice, but I doubt he would have left evidence of that," Leacher says, emerging from the hallway.

"He went as normal. He didn't leave with the intention to stay gone - something happened there."

"He would have used the Portkey if something got out of control," Harry says, watching with a disgusted fascination as Pruit shovels more soup into his mouth.

"He's probably on one of their missions."

"For an entire night and day?" Hermione asks.

"They could have asked him to stay until the mission. There's bedrooms, right?"

"At several places," Leacher answers, and she wonders how often he reads through the file.

"He's always been told beforehand about a mission, giving him time to plan it." 

"Something could have gone wrong," Pruit says.

"Obviously," she mutters, rubbing the hard ache at the center of her forehead.

"But, like Potter said, if it was too bad, he would have used the Portkey. I say we wrap up here, head home for the night. Granger has a ward intrusion notification set up, so just notify us if you are." Pruit drops the bowl into the sink, and then straightens his robes as Leacher walks to the door.

"I will."

Pruit catches the door before it shuts behind Leacher, and pauses, looking back and forth between her and Harry. "All right, then. Potter, I'll see you tomorrow."

Harry nods, his face aimed towards the door, but she can't see where he's looking from the glare of candlelight in his glasses. She looks down at her wrist, spinning the thin chain of a bracelet, and watching the grey gem disappear, reappear, disappear.

"Not yet, Hermione. If you activate the Portkey while he's right in the middle of something, it'll ruin everything. It's too soon."

"What if he's in trouble and can't reach the Portkey? They could have him bound. I... He thinks we'll always act like his life is less important than the Assignment, and it isn't. What if he needs to be out right now, and after all I've said about protecting him, I'm just sitting here in case it's too soon and would ruin the Assignment?"

Harry scratches his ear, straightening from his lean against the counter. "There's a risk, Hermione. There's always a risk, and he knows that. They had him for days when they first took him. If he's gone for days now, a week, and can't manage to get away once at this point, then we Portkey him back. Then something is obviously wrong. Nothing is obviously wrong right now. We just have to wait."

She drops her forehead into her palm, rubbing hard, and then stands. If Malfoy comes back and declares he was busy drinking brandy with a commander again, he might never leave ferret form.

October 30; 7:55am

She slides the pins into the tight bun of hair, staring at her forehead before checking her head from all angles. Releasing a heavy breath, she moves for her bedroom, the only sound in her flat being the soft padding of her feet. She grabs her shoes from the closet, and braces a hand against the frame as she pulls them on.