Borrowed Time

The café owner's directions were flawless, and in less than half an hour, the three friends found themselves standing outside the small picket fence surrounding the Godric's Hollow Cemetery. As Harry stood staring at the uneven rows of headstones and marble angels, he felt Ron's hand find his shoulder and Hermione's smaller one slip into his own.

"I'm fine," he said. He took a bracing breath and stepped through the open gate into the small graveyard.

The three of them made their way slowly up and down the rows, searching. Hermione was helping Ron scrubbing the dirt from a headstone to read the name beneath when she saw movement from the corner of her eye; she glanced up just in time to see Harry sink to his knees. In the next instant, she pivoted toward him, poised for flight; Ron's hand on her arm checked her, though. He shook his head, his expression somber. Swallowing hard, Hermione stamped down her impulse to go to Harry and simply stood watching him, Ron's arm around her waist.

After a few minutes, Ron slipped away, stepping up to rest a hand on Harry's shoulder. "All right, mate?"

"All right," Harry said, his voice hushed. "It's just...." He shook his head, unable to find the words.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Hermione said.

"I'm fine," Harry said again. He stood, then, and brushed the dirt from the knees of his jeans. Straightening, he opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped and stared, his mouth hanging open.

"Harry?"

"Harry, are you all right?"

"It's that girl again."

"What girl?"

"The one that looks like Ginny. Only she doesn't. Not really."

Ron and Hermione both turned to look and then exchanged a worried glance. Again, they had seen no girl.

"Uh...Harry, mate....there's no one there."

"She went behind that tree." Harry watched for a moment, his brow furrowing. "She couldn't have just disappeared. Unless...maybe...do you think maybe she's not a Muggle?"

"I think you need a lie down," Hermione said, taking Harry by the elbow.

"What? I'm fine," he insisted, shaking off her grasp. "I'm fine."

Ron couldn't help wondering if Harry was trying to convince them or himself.

Harry lay in one of the two beds in the rented room - the bed that he, if asked, would be sharing with Ron, regardless of the actual sleeping arrangements. He stared up at the ceiling, vaguely aware of the sound of Ron and Hermione talking quietly. Even though it might only be paranoia or even some twisted version of egoism, he felt certain they were talking about him. He ignored them and concentrated on his own thoughts, which consisted mainly of wondering what their next move should be.

Some time later, Harry was jolted awake by the angry rumbling of Ron's stomach.

"Sorry," Ron murmured.

"S'alright," Harry responded, pushing his glasses up to rub sleepily at his eyes.

Hermione sighed and gave Ron a pointed look. Ron opened his mouth to respond, but Harry cut him off.

"Please don't start bickering again," he said flatly. He curled up on his side and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

The room was silent for a moment. Harry wondered if the two were mouthing their concerns about him or if they'd reached the point of being able to read one another's thoughts.

"Harry," Hermione said at last. "We were going to head back down to the café...."

"You go on," Harry replied, cutting her off. "I'm not hungry."

"Harry, you need to eat."

"I'm fine. Go on."

Hermione let out a put-upon sigh.

"Come on," Ron said quietly. "We'll bring him something back."

A moment later the door opened and then closed again, and Harry was alone. He pushed aside the duvet and clambered from the bed. Drawing aside the heavy draperies, he looked out at the little village, watching his friends make their way down the lane to the café. It stood to reason that the two of them needed time alone -together- as much as he needed time alone. This way was best, even if it meant going hungry for a bit.