I Open at the Close
His eyes had not left the snitch all day, as he stared at the beautiful cursive writing that lined the golden exterior. 'I open at the close'. Now red rimmed and raw, they looked away as someone approached. Her foot steps were light as she walked from the tent, and weaved through the trees to where he sat. She was carrying a blanket, and as she sat next to him, she laid it across his shoulders - concern etched across her tired face.
"Harry," Hermione said softly, "You've been staring at that thing for far too long. You need to rest." She looked at the snitch, but didn't dare touch it. For she had no idea what he might do in his current state.
"No! Hermione! I need to know what it's trying to tell me!" He looked frantically around, then back at the snitch - as if in those few seconds it had decided to open.
"What if it's not telling you anything?" Hermione asked quietly, voicing her unpopular opinion again, trying to make his see sense. "What if the old man was just being sentimental? That's all I think it is."
"No, you're wrong! I know it.
"Harry this is not healthy." Hermione shot to her feet, adamant and now angry. "I'm worried about you. You're going to kill yourself." She looked back at the tent, where she hoped Ron would appear to tell Harry he was being an idiot. But he didn't.
"I'm fine."
"You're not, your shivering and is not even cold. Harry, you'll catch your death sitting her and diminishing your immune system." She kneeled beside him again, her eyes staring straight into his. "Please, come inside the tent at least." Hermione waited for his response and almost gave a cry of relief when Harry finally nodded, standing shakily. So, with Hermiones' help, he made it back inside. 'I open at the close'.
"I open at the close," he whispered as he fell asleep in one of the bunks, staring at the one above him. "Maybe it is just a load of rubbish?"
A/N: Words - 348
Choc Frog - (Silver) Bowman Wright