A/N: Thank you again to Heatherbella for betaing and for nudging me in the direction appropriate Britishisms.
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"Do join me in the courtyard, my dear." Minerva appeared in the doorway of Hermione's chambers.
The young woman nodded slowly but made no move to leave, instead remaining on her bed, book in hand. Her fingers traced the green-tinged pages until it seemed the colour should be transferred to her skin.
She brought her hand up, nearer her face. It was as empty as she felt.
"I thought it…" she began, then succumbed to nervous energy and began to fiddle with her pocket-watch again, the texture of its scrolled design soothing under her fingertips. "I thought it would be over by now."
The ancient bed frame creaked as Minerva sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "You had not expected him to survive the task."
Hermione turned her face upward and blinked rapidly. "It isn't as if I didn't want him to. But what difference did it make? He's not here now is he? He's still gone."
Minerva pursed her lips. Words of comfort remained unformed; the burden must be borne.
"Why do I feel so… so… guilty?"
"Why indeed." Minerva surveyed the graffitied walls. "The boys who made their marks here – do you believe they regretted them in later days?"
Hermione remained silent, eyes travelling across the letters, the scroll etching, the time-worn calligraphy.
"Emotions, honestly felt, harbour no shame." Minerva stood to leave. "Perhaps a trip to Hagrid's would be in order. A friendly face," she said with a small laugh. "A large one at that."
As she walked the slope to Hagrid's hut, Hermione fought to keep her eyes from drifting to the tree-line. It would do no good to obsess over what had likely been a figment of her imagination.
She was like a horse in blinders. So focused was she on not looking at the yard's edges that she failed to notice much more. Not the direction of the wind, nor the rustle in the underbrush. Certainly not the ever-increasing speed of her steps. The grounds were a blur and in her periphery the dark lake blended into the shadowed forest and clouded sky.
Everything was a dull haze, so she barely registered it.
Drawn there beyond reason and restraint, she glanced at a corner near the greenhouse.
It was there. Right there. Mere feet away. Grey where it should be glass and green.
She hadn't imagined the shadow earlier. It had followed her here. Here!
Unbidden, she halted and stared. The figure swayed, its hood drawn low, cloak skimming the earth.
"What do you want? What do you want of me?"
The figure jerked in an odd way, not a nod or any other movement that might divulge its intent.
"What? What?" Hermione demanded, knees stiff and eyes fixed.
A moment's pause, then the garbled sounds that still permeated Hermione's darkest sleep curdled in her ears. Inhuman and incomprehensible. A series of high pitches, then low, and more consonants than there seemed to be letters in any alphabet. Over and over again. The same sounds in the same succession, the only variant being a distinct lack of air on the final utterances before it backed away.
Unmoving, she watched until it quickly disappeared into the Forbidden Forest.
It was only then that Hermione saw the ground where it had been near her.
Brown and withered. Diseased, as if everything living had been touched by Death himself.
Hagrid shut the door to what had most recently been the Head Boy's room behind him as a concerned Minerva paced the hallway floor.
"How can this be?" She wrung her hands. "She's been promised protection, assured of it."
"Can't rightly say," he gruffed. "No tellin', but I'd wager it weren't nothing trailed in from the forest or up through the lake. Locked up tighter than a niffler's cage we are."
"No one is questioning your thoroughness, Hagrid, however, the fact remains that thing has indeed followed Miss Granger and we are at a loss as to how or why." Minerva whispered, but it was fruitless; Hermione heard every word from within her room.
"Or what," Hagrid muttered.
"What indeed. You say you actually laid eyes upon it. I need to know everything, every little detail."
"Oh, um, I don't rightly know how much help I'll be to you professor. Hermione's seen it so many times, it'd be best to ask her."
Exasperated, Minerva pressed. "Be that as it may, she is hardly in a state to share such matters, as you well know."
Hagrid eyed the door, thinking of the young lady behind it and all the trials she'd already endured. Walking her back inside a short time ago, he had to admit, might be the most broken-spirited he'd ever seen her. "Mostly, it's a cloak. Not so much like a Dementor – not made of a cloak - but wearing a dark cloak that covers it clean up. Hiding."
"There are plenty of places to hide here, yet you say it was in plain sight near the greenhouses."
"No… well, uh… what I mean is, it were by the greenhouses. I seen it earlier," he said, sounding a bit embarrassed. "Thought it was just a shadow on account of heavy clouds or what have you,
so I went about my rounds. I don't think it expected anyone to come by. Hermione was moving right quick at that." He lowered his voice even more. "It's more like it's hiding what's under that cloak and I can't say as I blame it." A shudder visibly through him. "Looked like one of them Death Eater's masks covered up with skin.
"Death Eat-" Minerva caught herself and fell back to a whisper. "You are mistaken, surely."
"I know what I saw." Hagrid straightened himself. "And I don't knows I'd want to see its like again."
Minerva dismissed Hagrid, but not before Hermione heard the headmistress make another decree. "You may well be out of luck on that order; Hermione will need an escort any time she leaves the castle."
Moments later, Hermione answered the knock at her door. She breathed deeply and forced a calm façade.
Minerva stood in the doorway but made no move enter. "Hermione, we'd agreed to continue reading, however, under these circumstances it-"
"Would make a brilliant distraction. Please, come in."
.
.
Our moment of contentment is short lived. Ron has become frantic.
"Harry's disappeared. I can't find him. He's not here. Not here!" He circles round the wooden stands and peers underneath, calling Harry's name. Strains of a march blast from grandstand and the field is teeming with people.
"Ron, he's probably down there," I say and gesture past Cedric to where nearly everyone we know celebrates.
"No, no he's not." Ron keeps spinning while he searches. "He was gone… just disappeared right before Cedric even came out of the maze." His anxiety is contagious and I feel a prickling down my spine. I look around and Harry truly is nowhere to be seen. Something is not right.
"I'll go look," Cedric offers, and heads toward the crowd.
"No, wait. You'll be mobbed down there," I say. A huge ruckus begins as if on cue.
"Good point," he agrees immediately, and climbs to the top, assuming the position of lookout while Ron and I disperse.
Ron finds Dumbledore first and has explained the situation by the time I find them. "Any lucky with Moody?" Ron asks breathlessly.
"None. He's gone, too." I'm panting, blood pounding in my ears so loudly the mob fades away. I look up to Cedric and he shakes his head, coming up empty from his vantage point as well.
"We need to think," I hear myself say. "Any idea where he might be?"
We talk over one another, words spilling and overlapping and fighting for dominance while Dumbledore listens. Immediately, Moody's lessons become suspect; Dumbledore knew and approved of nothing extra-curricular between them. Harry may well be a victim of misplaced trust.
But, where would he take him?
"As it seems they've had ample time to make it off school grounds before his absence was noted," Dumbledore says while Ron glares at me, "they could well be anywhere. Think back. Have there been any clues, any hint at all?"
I don't know why the memory hits me. "At the beginning of term, Harry said he was plagued with dreams about a headstone."
"Tom Riddle's grave?" Ron can't help but continue to look around, despite the pointlessness. Harry's shaggy head is nowhere to be seen.
I feel ashamed.
I had not spoken with him enough to even know he'd been dreaming about You-Know-Who's father's name. If I had… the danger is unmistakable. What else have I missed?
I make a silent vow that if… when… Harry is returned to us, I will be steadfast forever more.
"It seems entirely likely that you are, as always, correct Miss Granger. More's the pity in this instance." With that, Dumbledore moves swiftly, a light touch on the shoulders of Professors Snape, McGonagall and others he passes and they all make for the gates without a backward glance.
.
.
Hermione looked up suddenly at Minerva. "Did you already suspect Moody?"
The elder witch cocked an eyebrow. "What makes you think I would know any better than you would? This process works the same for me as well, child."
.
.
Ron and I stand stock still, watching helplessly as their figures grow swiftly smaller nearer the exit.
"What's all that about?" Cedric slips in beside me.
"Are you serious? 'What's that about?'" Ron practically spits. "It's all about you, isn't it? Not enough you spend every damned day with her, but she doesn't even notice her best friend disappear from right beside her."
"Honestly, Ron! That's enough. It isn't as though it's Cedric's fault." I expect Cedric to chime in, but he doesn't. He just remains beside me, watching the others leave.
In the distance, a faint crack echoes as the professors disapparate beyond the school's grounds.
"In case you two can be troubled enough to wonder," Ron spins to face me, "Harry's been having those dreams about the graveyard for months. Course, you'd know that if you were ever around. The scar burns like mad and he wakes up thrashing worse than ever. Suppose that's where they've headed."
I open my mouth to explain. I want to explain that I'm not Harry's keeper and I have every right to pursue higher academic goals and it is most assuredly not his business with whom I spend my time.
I want to say these things, but Ron isn't having it. "Don't bother Hermione." He stalks away, muttering "Too little, too late" under his breath.
Below us, the oblivious crowd has begun to chant "Diggory, Diggory" while banners sway and the band has begun recycling songs from its limited repertoire.
"Cedric, your public awaits." I try to sound light-hearted despite everything.
"Doesn't seem right to celebrate now." He hesitates over joining the fray, so I run my hand along his back and try to encourage him. He looks at me in a way I can't read.
"You're only a Tri-Wizard champion once. Best make the most of it."
"Didn't get into this mess on my own, you know." Cedric nods, as if steeling himself for the onslaught awaiting him. He may look more apprehensive than he did before the task itself.
"Go on. Don't waste this moment."
His knuckles brush along mine before he breaks away. Before the bottom step, he pauses and holds out his hand.
"Together."