She sifted through the mounds of text books and parchment before her, in desperate search of a quill, when she caught her approaching Head of House out of the corner of her eye. Sighing, preparing for the inevitable, she raised her head and spread her lips into a small, but welcoming smile.
She'd looked up in time to catch a glimpse of McGonagall's frenzied, pitying expression before she'd slid on a mask, a façade of calm apathy.
"Ah, Miss Granger, just the person I was looking for," she exclaimed, her voice light and airy with a false exuberance.
"Hello, Professor. What can I help you with?" Hermione asked politely, clearing her bag and several roles of parchment off of a nearby chair.
McGonagall took the preferred seat obligingly, smoothing out her professional robes. She had an air of anxiety, festooned with a thick coating of tension that was settling around them, separating teacher from student.
"Professor…is something wrong?" Hermione questioned tentatively.
"No, no of course not," she replied, only a hair too quickly.
Hermione captured eye contact which McGonagall found very difficult, if not impossible, to break. Hermione's large, innocent, chocolate brown eyes were rather persuasive and she'd apparently put them to frequent use over the years.
"Alright, alright. I would've preferred a bit of small talk before diving right into the issue, but alright. I've just been informed by the Headmaster that it is my job to see you through the plan," she muttered, rather bitterly. "Though, why Severus can't is a mystery to me, he's always playing the bloody 'Death Eater' card…personally, I'm not fond of the idea at all. Whose to say his home is any safer than Hogwarts? They're just going to get you killed…"
She was rambling. For a moment, Hermione almost questioned her mental health. "Professor, what on earth are you talking about?"
Her mumbling ceased and she shook her head. "I'm sorry Miss Granger. I'm here to ask you if you've packed yet. It would be best to leave tomorrow, but it can be put off until the weekend if necessary."
Now she really did worry about her mental health. "Pack? Pack for what? Where am I going?"
It was McGonagall's turn to appear baffled. "You don't know? Of course you know, Snape said he'd…he said…" Comprehension unveiled across her pale face, followed instantly by rage. "Death Eater meeting my ass! Of course. How could I be so stupid? He left me to sort out your reaction! He put the burden of enlightening you on me. Oh, when I get my hands on him…"
Before Hermione could utter a single syllable, McGonagall had jumped up from the table, sending her upset chair clattering to the floor. She tore down the hallway in blind fury, Hermione struggling to keep up, the books she'd left sprawled across the table completely forgotten. In record time, Hermione was clambering down the stairs to the dungeons, but despite her speed, McGonagall remained a good distance ahead. She barged into Snape's personal office—Hermione arrived just in time to see his shocked expression melt away, replaced by a burning rage.
"What the bloody HELL gives you the right—" he began, only to be cut off by her sharp voice.
"Oh, don't you harp to me about discourteousness, Severus—"
"Now, really Minerva, what've I done that's so—" He paused when he saw Hermione. Understanding dawned but he struggled to hold onto his anger.
"Yes, Severus. You seemed to have left out the fact that she doesn't KNOW!" McGonagall ranted.
He blanched, before shouting, "That doesn't excuse your less then gracious entrance," though neither McGonagall nor Hermione looked convinced. Not even Snape deemed his futile argument believable.
"Before the shouting starts up again, can someone tell me what the hell we're all screaming about?" Hermione said, momentarily silencing both of the seething professors.
McGonagall pursed her lips, folded her arms across her chest, and turned toward Snape, quite clearly insinuating that it would be he who relayed the Headmaster's plans. Snape, still rather surly at having his scheme soiled, sighed in relent.
"Miss Granger, it is the Headmaster's wishes that you are to be moved into a safe house until further notice—"
"Moved out of Hogwarts? I'm being…what, kicked out?" Hermione asked, bewilderment painted on her nicely featured face.
"No, not kicked out, of course not. But Miss Granger…Hermione," Snape sighed, hoping to get through to her more with the use of her first name. It took affect—she visibly calmed. "It will not be safe for you here in a few weeks time. We've kept you here as long as possible, but you're already three months along and you won't be able to hide the pregnancy before long."
"So? I mean, I don't exactly wish to put it on display but I don't see why I have to leave!"
"It's not about that, it's…" Snape hesitated. The next bit would not come easily. He led them wordlessly into his private living quarters and motioned for a large sofa, sitting opposite a love seat in his spacious living room.
Once they were seated comfortably, he delved into the frightening tale.
"Not long after I'd discovered the circumstances of the…incident, the Dark Lord called his supporters to him, under the rationale of introducing of a new generation of Death Eaters. Krum was among them." Snape saw Hermione whiten and quickened the pace of the story. "I'm sure you understand the gravity of the situation. Krum is now under the protection of the Dark Lord and we all know he isn't exactly the most powerful wand to in the shop. He is bound to brag about the incident between the two of you to the rest of the Death Eaters. You know that the children of Death Eaters attend this school. If one of them witnessed the evidence of your pregnancy and reported back to their fathers, the latter will make the connection and alert the Dark Lord at once. He, as you can imagine, frowns upon mating with Muggle-borns. You are not safe at Hogwarts as long as Krum is a follower of the Dark Lord."
Snape had watched her face fall throughout the duration of his account. He watched her wide, coffee brown eyes expand, shining with a tangible anxiety. He hated to be the one to cause such a reaction out of her. While it was true that torturing students was a fond hobby of his, the girl before him had never wronged anyone—she was a girl whose innocence had been ripped from her soul. She was intelligent beyond measure, kind to all, and as radiant as the sun on a clear blue day...
He shook his head to clear his thoughts and it was a long moment before he realized that she'd spoken. "Pardon me. What was that?"
"Where will I be going?" A single tear trailed down her cheek. The sight literally pained him.
"I've a small villa just inside of Italy. It's not exactly much but it'll do."
"So you'll be coming with me?" Her face brightened at the prospect of company and Snape's heart tightened in an unexpected joy.
"Of course. Now, I know this is difficult, but we must be ready to go by tomorrow night. Is that possible?"
"Oh, yeah. I'll be ready."
CHANGE OF SCENE
It was with poignant spirits that Hermione trudged to the Great Hall for dinner. Although comforted by the knowledge that she'd have company, the prospect of leaving was becoming slightly overwhelming. She hated having to part with Harry and Ron so shortly after they'd made up. And while it was true that Professor Snape had helped her a great deal when she could confide in no one else, Hermione could not, for the life of her, imagine living with him. What was she to do, once they were alone, if he were to return back to his snarky, reclusive ways? She knew that she needed human contact to survive. If deprived of it, she'd surely go mad.
She plopped down unceremoniously at her place between Harry and Ron. Both were engaged in a heated discussion about Quidditch, a discussion in which she had no desire to take part. Instead, she swallowed a few mouthfuls of her tomato soup without really tasting it. Half an hour later, she decided that she'd spent enough time in the Great Hall to avoid the suspicion of her friends. But alas, Harry was as observant as ever.
"Where are you going? You've not finished your soup," he exclaimed, adopting a rather fatherly tone that both touched and irritated Hermione.
"Thanks, Dad, but I'm not all that hungry. There's…something I've got to do."
"You can't not eat, not in your condition!" Ron had a way of referring to her pregnancy as if it were a particularly grave malady.
"I'll be fine. But, I want to speak to you both later. Common room at eight?"
"Well, alright, but take some of the fudge for later, it's delicious," Harry insisted.
Finally, her arms laden with the assortment of treats that'd been forced upon her, she swiftly ambled out of the Great Hall. In her haste to depart, she hadn't noticed a pair of concerned black eyes studying her from the Head table.
Back in her private Head Girl's room, she tersely thrust her belongings into an enchanted duffle bag, its insides designed to store ridiculous amounts—she could shove a Buick into it without a at the seems.
At eight, she traipsed down the curvy staircase leading to the common room, in which she found Harry and Ron anxiously awaiting her influx. Harry attempted a small smile at her but it appeared as more of a twisted grimace. She sighed. They really were more attentive than she gave them credit for.
After collapsing into three overstuffed arm chairs, Harry launched into questioning. "What's going on? We can see that there's something wrong, you don't look happy at all. Is there something wrong with the…you know, baby?"
Hermione was touched by his concern. "No, no, it's nothing like that. Where to start?"
She quickly relayed to them everything she'd been thus far enlightened. She watched with a quiet interest as Harry's face turned a sickly pale, while Ron's turned the color of his hair.
"So you're what?" Ron muttered hotly. "On the run?"
"Well…yes, only the enemy doesn't know he's chasing us yet. But eventually, it will be necessary and this way, we'll buy ourselves a little more time."
"But…how are you going to stand it? Hell, you're pregnant, meaning you'll be moodier than ever," Harry exclaimed, receiving a well-deserved smack for the understated jibe, "and you'll have nobody but Snape. Snape! You'll probably be alone for every minute you're gone. He'd be the man to leave a pregnant woman to her own devices if any man would."
"Harry, I'm pregnant, not ill! What you've got to understand, though, is that Professor Snape has actually been…helpful. I know it sounds weird, I hardly believe it myself, but it cannot be denied that Severus Snape can be a gentleman if he so desires. I'll be alright. But if things don't go as planned and I am alone, I'm warning you now, I will need human contact. Harry, how familiar are you with mobile phones?" She questioned with a mischievous gleam in her eye.
Harry grinned at her genius, fore both knew if Snape turned out to be the ass Harry was so determined to deem him, they'd take pleasure in the fact that they could drive their professor up a wall with the introduction of mobile phones. They could hear him now, huffily demeaning their devices of communication, ("You expect to talk to Potter, who happens to be in a different country, by means of that simple box with buttons? You are far more daft then I ever feared, Miss Granger…).
Oh, this could be fun.