There was a subdued sort of argument over who would cook that night, which ended with all three of them standing moodily around the fire outside of the newly cleaned and mended tent, watching water boil in an old, battered cauldron.
"It's a nice sunset," Hermione said brightly, looking between the two men as if she'd intended to break the tension. "Don't you think so?"
"Sure." Harry glanced up at it. "Nice. Isn't it, Malfoy?"
Malfoy didn't answer. He was staring past them at the nearest hilltop. "Get inside," he said, stepping in front of them, his voice quiet and firm. "Hurry."
"What?" Harry moved forward, trying to follow Malfoy's gaze but unable to see anything to be afraid of. "What is it? Is there something up there?"
Malfoy looked irritated. "You can see him, can't you? My father? Standing right on top of the hill there?"
"I don't see a thing," Harry said, stepping closer to the other young man. "I-"
"What about you?" Malfoy spun to face Hermione. His face was white, and when he pointed up at the hillside again, his finger was trembling. "You can't see him, either, can you?"
Hermione shook her head, biting her lower lip. "I'm sorry. I don't see anything."
"He's not really there." Malfoy stared quietly toward the apparition for a moment, then swore violently. "He's not there at all. He's just like Longbottom's monkey. I've got until morning, then, haven't I?" He pulled on his jacket in a firm, decisive motion. "I'm going for a walk. I have things to do before it's too late."