(no subject)
Who: Terry and Hermione
Where: The library, Order HQ
When: 4th September 2001, late evening
Status: Complete
Padding, silent and swift on stockinged feet, Terry made his way down the long corridor and to the library, hoping against hope that Hermione was still awake and reading, as she was wont to do most nights. It was late, to be sure, but it couldn't be helped. He had news... potentially very bad news that simply could not wait until morning.
Thank god for small miracles that this was one of Michael's shag nights with Cho, and thus out of the house and earshot, he thought as he clutched a dog-eared notebook to his chest. There was absolutely no way he could manage a believable excuse as to why he'd suddenly rushed into the room and threw a triple series of silencing, locking and security spells on the door.
"Hermione..." He paused, and cleared his throat, not liking the dry, scraping sound his voice made. He didn't talk much anymore; only speaking when he felt it was truly necessary. In Susan's absence, he'd all but become a shut-in.
Smoothing down the front of his shirt, wrinkled from wear and hanging a bit oddly off his gaunt frame (when was the last time he'd changed clothes or had a proper bath, anyway?), Terry took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm his jangled nerves.
Jesus. He must look an absolute fright.
"Hermione, I'm sorry to bother you right now, but we've got a serious problem on our hands."
Where: The library, Order HQ
When: 4th September 2001, late evening
Status: Complete
Padding, silent and swift on stockinged feet, Terry made his way down the long corridor and to the library, hoping against hope that Hermione was still awake and reading, as she was wont to do most nights. It was late, to be sure, but it couldn't be helped. He had news... potentially very bad news that simply could not wait until morning.
Thank god for small miracles that this was one of Michael's shag nights with Cho, and thus out of the house and earshot, he thought as he clutched a dog-eared notebook to his chest. There was absolutely no way he could manage a believable excuse as to why he'd suddenly rushed into the room and threw a triple series of silencing, locking and security spells on the door.
"Hermione..." He paused, and cleared his throat, not liking the dry, scraping sound his voice made. He didn't talk much anymore; only speaking when he felt it was truly necessary. In Susan's absence, he'd all but become a shut-in.
Smoothing down the front of his shirt, wrinkled from wear and hanging a bit oddly off his gaunt frame (when was the last time he'd changed clothes or had a proper bath, anyway?), Terry took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm his jangled nerves.
Jesus. He must look an absolute fright.
"Hermione, I'm sorry to bother you right now, but we've got a serious problem on our hands."