AN: Howdy all! Thanks to those who have followed already!

My usual upload day will be every Monday night (in Australia), but if I get ahead of schedule (hoping to be writing ten chapters ahead of where I'm posting), then I'll upload a second chapter on Thursdays. Hope you all enjoy! It's a little more serious than I'd planned at the moment, but it'll lighten up very soon, I promise! And just so you guys know what to expect, I plan to cover all of sixth year, seventh summer, seventh year, and possibly a tiny bit after school.


Chapter Two

Odd Behaviour

Hermione:

Ron pushes down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, eager to find Harry's compartment now that the prefects meeting is over. Not that he'd paid much attention. Hermione sighs and resists the urge to scold him. Honestly, he could at least try to be grateful for the position.

She supposes, though, that at least he'd shown up. Unlike Draco Malfoy, who didn't even bother to show his face.

Hermione makes a point of glancing in at the usual Slytherin compartment as they pass. Her eyes scan the room quickly through the open door before switching to the compartment across the hall when she doesn't see him. They've stretched out across two compartments this year, leaving the doors open so conversation can pass between them.

Pansy Parkinson lounges in the doorway of the second compartment, and gives Hermione a high arched sniff of superiority. Hermione rolls her eyes and ignores her.

'Shirking your responsibilities as usual, Malfoy?' Ron says, pausing just outside the compartment to give Malfoy a disgusted look.

A flash of pale blonde hair catches Hermione's eye as Malfoy glances out at them. A scowl flashes across his face, but he doesn't say a word. He simply turns back to the window, his elbow propped up on the sill and resumes staring out at the flashing countryside.

Hermione frowns.

'Why don't you crawl back under that rock you came from, Weasley,' Parkinson sneers.

Ron scoffs and continues on, shaking his head and seeming unbothered by the complete lack of response from Malfoy. Hermione glances back at the blonde once more, seeing the tautness to his shoulders, the shadows under his eyes. Eyes that meet hers in the reflection of the window. His gaze narrows, then flickers and drops.

'Why don't you take a picture?' Parkinson scowls.

Hermione rolls her eyes again and follows Ron. The itching need to know creeps up her spine and she has to squash it down. Besides, she has other things to worry about besides Malfoy's unusual lack of need to be the centre of attention.

Like the group of girls heading towards them, giggling and whispering. Talking about Harry.

Hermione frowns, slowing her pace as she and Ron approach the girls.

'—just have to try harder,' one of the girls is saying.

'Oh don't worry,' says a pretty girl with long brown hair, stopping outside a compartment door. 'I'm not giving up. Harry'll realise eventually that—'

The girl cuts off as Hermione passes, giving Hermione a rather sour look and pointedly slipping inside and closing the door. Hermione raises her eyebrows, glancing back over her shoulder at them and wondering what exactly that was about.

Ron, of course, doesn't notice and not for the first time Hermione wishes she was blessed with the same blissful ignorance with which Ron seems to breeze through life with. She wishes she could turn off her ability to observe. It's like a curse. An irresistible curse. She sighs.

To her surprise, Ron glances back at her. 'Alright?'

She offers him a faint smile. 'I guess,' she says. 'Actually, I'm a bit worried.'

Ron pauses, turning sideways to look at her. 'Worried? Why?'

She shifts her weight, eyes darting up and down the corridor (which isn't empty). More than a few students are watching them, gazes curious as whispers echo around them. Ron frowns and glances about, only just seeming to notice. He scowls.

'Vultures, can't they see Harry's not here,' he mutters.

'They aren't looking for Harry,' she says. 'Well, they're not only looking for him. They're staring at us.'

'Us? Why?'

Ron's complete bafflement is almost endearing.

'Because of what happened at the Department of Mysteries. I expect Neville, Luna and Ginny will be receiving the same scrutiny.'

Ron snorts and shakes his head. 'Bonkers,' he says. 'It's all just bonkers. You'd think people would've forgotten all about that with all the attacks there's been this summer.'

'Not really,' says Hermione. 'After all, the Department of Mysteries is where it all started. Now that Voldemort is out in the open, the attacks are only going to get worse.'

'They're already getting worse,' Ron mutters, and rubs at a lingering bruise on his arm. 'So what're you worried about?'

She draws level with him and keeps her voice low. 'Actually, it's about the attack…and how Harry went missing.'

Ron frowns, then he sighs and rolls his eyes. 'Harry?' he asks. 'C'mon 'Mione, you're not still on about what happened at the Alley are you?'

She purses her lips and glares at him. 'Yes I am still on about that. You don't think it's strange? You don't think it's weird that he can't explain where he was? Even to us.'

'Jesus Hermione, it was an attack, he got lost. Hell we all got lost. Give him a break. Don't you think he's dealing with enough at the moment?'

Somehow Hermione manages not to throttle him. Of course Harry was dealing with enough and that is exactly why she's worried about him. She grits her teeth and hisses at him, 'Lost for four hours, Ron? In Diagon Alley? I've asked him about it and he can't even describe where he was. Not to mention that limp—'

'So he sprained his ankle! He was running from Death Eaters. I think he was more concerned with getting away from them than remembering exactly where he was.'

'What about the blood? What if something happened and he doesn't remember, Ron? What if someone did something to him?'

'Jesus Hermione,' he says again, and shakes is head. 'Look, I get it. You're freaked out. Everybody is freaked out. But Harry's already told us everything that happened. He's fine. Just let it go, would you?'

Hermione does let it go, but only because they've arrived at the compartment. Instead she observes. And she notices.

Harry sits inside next to Neville and across from Luna. There are shadows under his eyes, like the have been the last two weeks, and Hermione wonders just how much sleep he's getting between the nightmares that aren't as secret as he and Ron think they are.

Fine. Bah!

Ron drops into the seat next to Harry, nodding at Luna and Neville, leaving Hermione to sit across from them.

'Hi Neville, hi Luna. Guess what?' Ron adds, turning to Harry. 'Malfoy's not doing prefect duty. He's just sitting in his compartment with the other Slytherins, we saw him when we passed.'

Harry sits up straight and it's the liveliest Hermione has seen him in days. Except there's a tightness around his mouth and eyes. He clenches his jaw, a reaction she recognises as him trying to hide pain.

She narrows her eyes.

'Really?' Harry asks. 'Why?' What's wrong?

For a moment Hermione swears he says the last two words. It's in his voice, in the upward infection of an unfinished sentence, in the concern that flashes across his face and underlines his tone. It's in his eyes and the way he shifts forwards slightly, fixated on Ron's response.

Ron, as usual, doesn't notice. Instead he shrugs and leans back in his seat.

'Dunno. Stupid git's just making more work for the rest of us of course. Not like him, though, is it? Why isn't he out there bullying first-years?'

'Dunno,' says Harry, but he looks distracted, his gaze falling away from them as he chews on the inside of his mouth.

'It was odd,' says Hermione, and pretends not to notice the intensity in Harry's gaze as it snaps back to her.

'Odd?'

She shrugs, dragging her answer out, watching for Harry's reaction. 'He didn't say anything when we walked passed. Ron, of course, made some snide comment—'

'I did not—'

'Yes, you did. Anyway, you know how he is. Normally he'd bite back and say something perfectly horrid, but instead he just…ignored us.'

A frown draws Harry's brows together. 'Oh,' he says, and chews on the inside of his mouth.

'Git,' Ron mutters.

'Perhaps it's more wrackspurts,' Luna suggests. 'Harry had one earlier.'

Hermione raises her eyebrows, but knows better than to argue with the odd Ravenclaw. She shakes her head and says,

'Maybe he preferred the Inquisitorial Squad? Maybe being a prefect seems a bit tame after that.'

'Maybe,' Harry mutters, and he glances up.

Uncertainty flashes across his face. He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze darting around the compartment before fixing back on Hermione's face.

'You don't think—'

The compartment door slides open and a breathless third-year girl steps inside.

'I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter,' she falters, as her eyes meet Harry's and she turns scarlet.

She's holding out two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon.

Whatever Harry was going to say is lost to the perplexing that replaces his uncertainty. He and Neville take the scrolls addressed to each of them and the girl stumbles back out of the compartment.

Ron leans over. 'What is it?' he demands as Harry unrolls his.

'An invitation,' says Harry and he sounds confused.

'Who's Professor Slughorn?' asks Neville, looking confusedly at his own invitation.

'New teacher,' says Harry. 'Suppose we'll have to go, won't we?'

He sounds disappointed, and Hermione doesn't blame him. Though she suspects they are disappointed for different reasons.

'But what does he want me for?' asks Neville nervously, as though he is expecting detention.

Harry shrugs. 'Let's just get it over with.'

He sounds tired, and as he pushes up to his feet he winces. He keeps his weight shifted to one side and Hermione notices the way he takes care to keep his arm away from his ribs. His eyes catch hers, before dropping away again.

She can't help it. As he pushes out of the compartment with Neville on his heel, she thinks of Malfoy, and the similar way he had looked at her.

Hermione bites her lip and not for the first time this summer she wonders what Harry's thinking.