Disclaimer: I am not in fact a rich British woman, therefore...

Hermione Granger stared into the fire and chewed on the end of her muggle pen. Harry had arrived only hours ago and already there was more dramatics than she would have liked. She knew that he had every reason to be angry. After all, they had kept him in the dark all summer, meaning he had no one to talk to but those horrid relatives of his. But really, it wasn't their fault. It was under Dumbledore's orders that they told Harry nothing. She just wished he could get over being stubborn and understand.

The fire cracked and sent sparks in the air. Hermione smiled. When the night was quiet and everyone was asleep, she could almost pretend it was just an ordinary summer night, and she was at home with her family safe and sound.


Ron Weasley rolled over in his bed. He couldn't get to sleep. He was usually snoring as soon as his head hit the pillow, but not tonight. This was no ordinary night. Tonight Harry Potter, his best friend and the boy who lived, was asleep seven feet away from him. Harry was a tough one to figure out even at the best times, which tonight was not. He was furious at them, and it was killing Ron that he couldn't get through to his friend. He lay still for a moment, listening for some indication that Harry was still awake and wanted to talk. He was usually the last one asleep, but apparently not tonight. The room was silent.


Harry Potter stared up at the blurry white mass with fizzy lines that was the ceiling without his glasses. He knew that no one else had fallen asleep either. Ron was quiet and unmoving, which was nothing like how he ordinarily slept, and Hermione had yet to come say good night like she promised she would before she went to bed. She wouldn't back out on a promise now, even of she thought they were already asleep. Which, he reasoned, she probably didn't. She was a smart one that Hermione.

His nose ran and he sniffed as quietly as he could, knowing Ron was listening intently to him. That was a change. Ordinarily it was Harry lying awake worrying about his friends, but tonight they'd switched roles. Ron, and Hermione too he knew, couldn't sleep because they were too worried about him, whereas he wasn't worried about them at all. Well that wasn't fair. He was worried about them deep down, he always was, like a monster clawing at his gut when he took a breath, but tonight it wasn't his dominant emotion.

He was angry. If they cared about him at all, they would have sent him some information. They would have found a way, not rolled away docilely when Dumbledore said to leave him in the dark. When someone told them to jump, they didn't ask how high. None of them did, none of them ever had. Ordinarily that it. Apparently this was the exception.

He rolled over and shut his eyes tightly. He hadn't gotten a good night's sleep all summer and apparently that wasn't going to change tonight.

He heard the door open and knew it was Hermione without having to hear her whispering voice or feel her light weight sit on the end of her bed. He pretended to be asleep, hoping she'd move on without talking to him. She did.

She moved on to Ron's bed and Harry heard them conversing in hushed tones. He caught his name, which ordinarily would have caught his interest. But not tonight. Sleep beckoned just beyond his closed eyelids and he was determined to catch it.