Albania - 7

Harry's eyes opened slowly as he lazily stretched and rolled over on his side. He could hear Ron's snores drifting from the bunk beneath him. The room appeared fuzzy without his glasses. He squinted as he peered at Ginny's bed, but didn't see the familiar cascade of red that usually covered her pillow. He felt that familiar twinge of disappointment at her absence, but squelched it.

Sitting up and cracking his back, he put on his glasses and blearily looked around. Both of the girls' beds were empty, and he thought he could smell the aroma of bacon coming from the other room. Harry swung his legs over the side of his bunk and jumped to the floor. Ron never twitched, so Harry left him to his slumber.

He found Ginny and Hermione in the kitchen. Ginny was frying some bacon on the stove while Hermione hunched over a cup of coffee. Harry had been surprised to learn how grumpy Hermione could be first thing in the morning. At Hogwarts, she always came downstairs bright and eager to start classes. While on this journey together, however, he'd discovered that until she had a shower, Hermione's morning demeanor rather resembled Ron's.

Ginny had told him that Hermione had always been that way; she usually didn't come downstairs until she'd managed to fully wake herself. Hermione liked her routine, and part of that routine involved avoiding all human contact when she first awoke. Ginny said that on days when Hermione appeared at breakfast already very cross, Parvati and Lavender had insisted on speaking to her first thing.

"Morning, Harry," Ginny said, greeting him with a warm smile.

The creature that resided inside Harry's chest purred. "Morning," he replied, unable to suppress the goofy smile that crossed his face.

"The breakfast isn't quite ready, but there's coffee in the pot if Hermione is willing to share," Ginny said, poking Hermione in the ribs with her spatula.

Hermione jerked away from Ginny's prodding and silently pushed the coffeepot towards Harry.

"Good morning, Hermione," Harry said, pouring a cup and breathing in the freshly brewed scent.

"How did you sleep?" Ginny asked, gently ruffling his hair as she walked back towards the stove.

"Never better," Harry replied, watching her crack some eggs on the counter.

"I've been thinking about our plans to be seen in Diagon Alley, Harry," Hermione said, sitting up a bit straighter in her chair. She'd managed to open her eyes about halfway.

"What about it?" Harry asked warily. He felt a row brewing, and he knew disagreeing with Hermione in the morning was a bad idea all around.

"Do you really think it's wise to be seen by anyone before we search for the Horcrux? I mean, what if we run into one of the Order or get detained by the Ministry? I think we ought to go straight to the museum and then go to Diagon Alley tomorrow," Hermione said.

Harry shook his head. "We've already discussed this, Hermione. I don't know what will happen if we find a Horcrux. I'm not certain how we'll destroy it, or…or if we'll be injured in the process," Harry said, swallowing heavily. The image of Dumbledore's withered hand arose unbidden in Harry's mind, followed by the sound of Dumbledore's pleading as Harry had forced him to continue drinking that foul liquid. Harry shuddered as he forced the memories to the back of his mind. He couldn't dwell on them now.

"I realize it'll be dangerous," Hermione said as if reading his mind, "but we're all entering this willingly. We know what we're doing, Harry."