I stared silently out the window above my brother's bed, listening to Blaise's quiet snores. I couldn't sleep, no matter how hard I tried. For the longest time, I had talked to Blaise, but he had fallen asleep hours ago, leaving me wide awake with nothing to do.
I sat up, letting the blankets fall down into my lap. I swung my legs out of bed, creeping over to the closed door. I pulled it open slowly, carefully, listening for the sound of my parents voices. I didn't hear them , but I knew they were awake. Their light was on, shining under their door down the hall, the room closest to the stairs.
I slipped out the door and down the stairs, into the kitchen. The stove clock said it was 3:26, and I sighed. There was no way I was going to fall asleep now. Might as well stay down here.
I grabbed a bottle of water and a bag of pretzels. Passing the stairs on my way down to the basement, I froze.
"We can't tell them yet." Mom's quiet voice floated down the stairs to my ears.
"We have to. You-Know-Who is back, and they know it. We have to get the kids ouut of here before he comes and takes them." Dad argued.
What were they talking about? I placed the water and pretzels on the floor and climbed the stairs quietly, stopping halfway.
"But we don't have to tell them to get them out of here." Mom said.
"Yes, we do. Maya, they're going to aske questions, questions we can't answer without telling them the whole story. You know that, the Malfoy's know that, I know that." Dad said. "We can't protect them forever. Chris is already eighteen, and Blaise and Hermione are seventeen. They're old enough to know the story, and learn from our mistakes."
I could just imagine Dad putting his arms around Mom, sitting on the bed, comforting her.
"I know you're right," Mom said finally, her voice choked. "But I was hoping that it wouldn't be now. I was hoping that moving to America would keep us safe, protect us from You-Know-Who."
"It's okay. We can get through this. Everything will be okay."
Their voices quieted so that I couldn't hear them, and I backed away, down the stairs, grabbing my snack and drink in a daze.
I turned the TV on in the basement, but ignored whatever was on. I was too caught up in what my parents had said. What did they mean, Voldemort would come after us? And what were they not telling us?
"Hermione? What are you doing up?" Chris asked, coming to sit next to me.
"Couldn't sleep." I answered. I curled up next to him, and he automatically put his arm around me.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yes," I lied. "Everything's fine."
A/N: Jeez, I am writing pathetically short chapters lately. I'm losing my touch, or something.