Futile

Sometimes she wonders how her mind hasn't snapped before now. She was seventeen years old and mentally exhausted. Taking care of Harry and Ron for the past six years had taken a toll on her stamina and her patience. Too often had she fallen in bed at night, fully clothed and drained. Yet she put on a brave face for her best friends because she knew what would happen if she didn't. Harry would notice first, inform Ron, and they would exhaust several methods trying to figure out how to "fix her", unsuccessfully. It wasn't like earlier years when there was a tangible problem to fix: a rogue troll in the bathroom or a beloved teacher trying to eat you under a full moon.

Hermione closed her book and sat up on her bed. She glanced at the clock: three in the morning. "Great," she said aloud, "I'll definitely be perky for the train ride tomorrow." Insomnia was a constant companion lately. Thinking a bath would relax her, Hermione ran her hands through her hair and padded to the bathroom.

"So who do you think will run the school? I bet it'll be McGonagall."

"Not sure, mate. At this point it could be anybody, couldn't it?," said Harry. "What do you think, Hermione?"

"What?" Hermione focused on Harry's face. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" Harry exchanged a glance with Ron.

"Who do you think will take Dumbledore's place?," Harry asked.

"I'm sure whomever inherits the responsibility will be adequate," she said distractedly.

Ron's brows raised at her answer. "Well, I for one hope McGonagall doesn't 'inherit the responsibility'- she'd probably cancel the Hogsmeade trips and make us study on Saturdays! I don't fancy grinding my nose in a book for the whole year." He went back to chewing on some jerky and playing Wizard's Chess.

Harry wasn't laughing. He, being the more insightful of the two boys, always noticed first when there was something 'off' with their best friend. He knew there was something going on with her now, but he wasn't ready to ask her about it. The time wasn't right and he had a feeling that even Hermione was unaware of her uncharacteristic behavior. He had to settle for quietly observing for now.

Hermione continued to stare out the train window, her hands holding her closed book.