Out of Time

Chapter 35

Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

- The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot

Harry tries to hide it, but the pain in his head is worse every day. His attempts to mask it get worse, too, as if it's almost an afterthought - as if he can't think about anything but the pain in the initial waves of it wracking through him.

Without discussing it, Hermione and Ron begin taking longer shifts to relieve Harry of the locket. There's no disputing that Harry's scar is worse when he's wearing it.

To keep Harry from catching onto this (because he would argue against it, valiantly, to the detriment of his own strength), Hermione adjusts the timer they keep hovering in the tent. The timer is both a boon of sanity and despair all in one. 'Only two hours left now, one hour to go,' or the inverse dread of 'it's mine in twenty minutes.'

She shortens Harry's shifts when he's outside, by a half an hour here or an hour there. He hasn't noticed, and if she keeps the tweaks minor and scattered, maybe he won't.

There's no denying that she and Ron notice, though. Harry hardly seems better but they both feel the difference. The locket's power seems to accumulate the longer they have it. They used to go in eight-hour shifts each but they've got Harry's time with it down to six and each of theirs up to nine.

She and Ron had another row about it while Harry was off scavenging berries.

"The worse he does, the less he thinks!" Ron shouts in frustration. That's not eloquent but his meaning is plain. The more pain Harry is in, the less he can focus on their possible next steps.

They're just as adrift as ever and the weather is only getting colder. They only risk lighting fires on watch when it's daylight, not wanting to chance the light of their campfire being seen in the dark and giving away their position. Smoke from it carries the same danger in the daylight, but they have to have a fire. Warming charms are beginning to fall short and the fire boosts their morale.

It boosts Hermione's, anyway. Nothing seems to boost Ron's lately and she's given up pandering to him.

He's mumbling something under his breath and she catches the word 'Nott.'

She turns on him. "What's that, now?"

"I said, I bet Nott would know what to do next. He was always a clever one."

"What the hell does Theo have to do with anything?"

"Always right behind you in lessons, wasn't he? In marks and where he chose to sit."

The Horcrux makes her petty and she can't help a sharp desire to lift the memory charm and remind him of his humiliation in the broom cupboard at school. "I never knew you were so insecure, Ronald."

Ron's derisive snort could be heard clear to the next town. "You had all of them falling at your fucking feet. I bet you loved it."

Hermione chooses to ignore the fact that being accepted by Draco's friends had been validating. She'd always been an awkward child, all hair and teeth and oppressive eagerness. At Hogwarts, she'd been essentially friendless until Halloween, when Harry had finally reached out, Ron trailing along behind. Discovering that she could be accepted by the premier batch of Slytherins in their year - that Theo had even fancied her, for Merlin's sake - had felt good. She'd slowly made inroads towards friends in her own house over the years, not to mention Luna - and Ginny is one of her best friends. But she could never shake the feeling of isolation she'd grown up with.