:::Waiting For Fate:::
Laid out on her back, Hermione dragged the blankets up to her chin and stared at the ceiling.
The sporadic sound of Ron's muttered sleep-talk and the rumble of Seamus' unceremonious snores invaded the silence, but for some reason they made her smile. It felt good to be back in Gryffindor Tower again. It had been a lifetime, it seemed, since she'd slept in these dormitories, tucked in securely among friends. She hadn't realized how much she had missed it, that elusive feeling of being safe, of being home. All her life, she'd been afraid, insecure… but this was the place she could be comfortable, confident. These rooms, all decked out in red and gold, were the places that had made her wounds less painful, her nightmares less threatening. This was the site of love, and trust, and strength. And courage. This was the place to come home to.
"Mmn…" A pained sound broke out over the drowsy mumbling and snores. Hermione turned her head to face it. Through the moonlit room, she could see Harry shifting beneath his covers. "No!" He was suddenly tossing and turning in the bed as if fighting off ghosts, moaning as if he was losing the fight.
Worried, Hermione threw her blankets aside and climbed out from underneath. Quietly, she moved the few steps to where her friend lay. "Harry?" she asked. She gently shook him. "Harry, are you alright?" He didn't wake at first. She shook him harder. "Harry, wake up."
Harry's eyelids came apart, presenting two bright emerald eyes. Hermione watched as the panic subsided and reality registered. After a while, he slowly sat up, holding one hand to his head and the other to his chest, breathing as if grasping for air.
Hermione sat on the bed beside him, rubbing his back with sympathetic eyes. "A nightmare?" she guessed as he tried to catch his breath. Harry nodded, swallowing, calming. "Do you… want to talk about it?" she dutifully asked.
"It was that damn ritual again," he answered, rubbing a tender finger along his lightning bolt scar. He shook his head. "The ceremony or whatever."
Hermione swallowed. "You mean… the ceremony for Malfoy," she stated cautiously.
Harry nodded again and let his hand drop down with a sigh. A moment passed. "I guess it'll probably be happening soon, then," he told her.
Hermione looked down. "Probably," she agreed calmly, but inside, her heart was aching. She didn't want to hear about this. She didn't want to think about this. "Do you need me to get you something?" she asked, changing the subject, distracting them both. "Some water?" she pressed when he shook his head.
"No. I'm fine. Just need to rest my eyes." He rubbed one eyelid with the knuckle of his index finger. "There's nothing to do about this Malfoy business. The snake is going to do what he's going to do." He forced a smile, but it was tight. "No use in us losing any more sleep over it than we have to, right?"
Hermione nodded. "Right," she said, but she knew it was a lot easier said than done.
She waited for him to lay back and resituate himself against his pillows. She rose and gently tucked the blankets back around him before tiptoeing back to her own bed. She climbed inside, puling the covers high over her, rolling into a ball and closing her eyes.
"There is one thing, though," she heard her friend say after a while. "That glass vial, the one I saw Malfoy hand to Voldemort…"
She slowly opened her eyes, her whole body filling with dread. "Yes?"
Harry's brows furrowed, and when he spoke next his voice was thoughtful. "I think it was... blood," he said with a shake of his head. He let out a breath, a sort of unbelieving laugh. He was certain now. "It was blood."
