Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue... so forth and on with the fic! Chapter 13! It didn't take me as long to come up with another idea that stuck me into a corner… Also, a certain description in this story belongs to V.C. Andrews, from the 'Flowers in the Attic' series. It is a very beautiful description of a setting that I thought would be perfect for the story, although I do not describe it the same, word-for-word... so I don't own that either...
Chapter 13: The Hiding Place
Days later, Hermione sat in the Gryffindors' common room with Ron and Draco. They still hadn't heard anything from Harry, who had been sent into hiding by Professor Dumbledore. They were next, but they would be put somewhere else, separated from everyone but Dumbledore.
"I wonder where we'll be put," Ron sighed, leafing through his Potions book. "And why am I still doing this crap? Once we're in hiding, none of this will matter..."
He slammed his book closed, and stared off into the fire.
"I just hope we're not found in hiding," Draco whispered loudly. "My father was informed by Voldemort about what had happened... he was furious, and I'm afraid that if he finds me, he'll kill me."
"Or change you back to the way you were," Hermione said absently. She was waiting for Hedwig, glancing out the window for the snowy white owl, and wondering what could be taking her so long. "But that's not what we need to be focusing on. We need to figure out what we're going to do once we're all in hiding. We can't just sit and wait to hear news from Dumbledore everyday."
"Harry has to, why wouldn't we?" Ron asked, scratching his shaggy red head. "I mean, what could we possibly do?"
"Plan," Hermione said straight-forwardly.
"Yeah, fat lot of good that does us all. Look what's happening now because of our last episode of planning," Ron spat, standing up. "I'm going to bed, I'm wiped."
"I'll be up in a few minutes," Draco said, having taken up residence in the Gryffindors' boys dorms, since his discovery by the Slytherins.
"Right," Ron said, throwing his book into his bag and heading upstairs.
Hermione and Draco sat in silence before Draco broke it by replying to Hermione's earlier request.
"What do you propose we do? I mean, Ron's right: there's not a whole lot we can do."
"We can do lots... take our Defense Against the Dark Arts book, and keep practicing, learn new spells, perfect old ones," Hermione listed off.
"Yeah, I've got some advanced copies of defense books. We could do a replica spell and each have a copy, and send one to Harry," Draco nodded emphatically.
"That's a great idea!" Hermione squealed, seeing the first ray of hope for help since the beginning of all of this new disaster.
They sat talking about it for a while longer before heading up their separate stairs to their dorms. Before Hermione reached the top, she heard Draco calling to her from the bottom, beckoning for her to hurry.
"What is it?" she huffed, reaching the common room in a flash.
"Ron, he's gone. They took him to his hideout," Draco gasped out. "His stuff's gone, and all of his covers and hangings have been taken off of his bed."
"Oh..." Hermione sat abruptly, the air gone from her lungs. She repeated herself, this time with a much softer "Oh".
"We're next," Draco said with a grimace, "we'll be next..."
He faded out, although he was still talking just as shocked. But the more Hermione tried to concentrate, the more disoriented she became, until all that was left was a gentle dream to keep her worried mind happy.
Hermione woke abruptly, sunshine pouring onto her face from the tower window. She sat up and realized that she had been put onto the couch and wrapped in a blanket.
"Oops," she yawned tiredly, standing up and stretching.
She stumbled drowsily to the bathroom in her dorm room. She showered and dressed automatically, pulling her hair back in a high, sleek ponytail.
As she stepped out of the bathroom, she realized someone was watching her.
"Who-" she asked, whirling around to see Professor Dumbledore standing by her bed.
"Hermione," he said softly, his eyes shining.
"Grandfather, I'm late for classes, I'm sorry-" she started, but was interrupted by a wave of his hand.
"It is time," he smiled sadly. "We must take you into hiding. Take only what you need."
"What do I need?" she asked calmly, her heart pounding.
"Clothes, maybe only a couple of robes and night clothes. Books, any ones you want to bring. Your wand. That is all."
"Yes, sir," she replied solemnly. "I'll be done in five minutes only."
"Hermione," Dumbledore started, "you are my granddaughter, my muggle daughter's only child. My wife has long ago died, and you are the only other magical being in my great family. I could not bear to lose you, you know this. I am sorry that I have to send you away, you know this as well. And, as always, dear Granddaughter, I love you."
Hermione was crying, freely letting her heart break into tiny shards before this great wizard. She collapsed into his thin arms, and held tightly to his old, withered body. She knew that he was dying, that even with magic, he could not be saved. And she knew that one more fight with Voldemort would be the end of this beloved man. All of his energy would be spent to help heal the world of Voldemort's evil and pain. And it would be little to no good. She knew this, and wept brokenly.
"Grandfather, let me stay with you until the end," she cried. "Please, let me be beside you, let me hold your hand as you die, and let me say my farewell in peace and love. Please."
"Hermione, I would love nothing more, but you cannot be with me. You cannot see me again until after I am dead."
"Then I will make my peace with you at that time. I pray that you will be able to hear me, Grandfather," she sobbed, releasing her grip on his frail body.
"I do as well," he said, tears of his own streaming down his worn face. "I do as well..."
Hermione gasped at the sight before her.
A bed, more beautiful than any she'd ever seen.
A swan bed. It had a sleek ivory head, turned in profile, and appeared ready to plunge its head under the ruffled underside of a lifted wing. The swan had one sleepy red ruby eye. Its wings curved gently to cup the head on an almost oval bed. The architect had designed the wingtip feathers to act as fingers to hold back delicate transparent draperies that were all shades of pink, gold, and red.
"You will be here for a very long time," Dumbledore sighed behind Hermione, reminding her to look around the rest of the room.
The floor had thick pink carpet, a vanity table of marble etched with gold. A doorway lead off to what she presumed would be the bathroom. The windows were heavily curtained with reds and maroons and pinks of varying shades. She smiled.
"Grandfather," she said, turning to him, "this is just a regular room. I don't know where I am or anything, but it doesn't seem that I'm hiding... just staying in a regular room, with regular privileges... this isn't so bad!"
"That's where you're wrong, Hermione," Dumbledore said sadly. "You see, this room is all you can see for quite a while. You cannot leave this room, and you cannot open those curtains to the windows, except at night. Sometimes, I will not be able to bring you food for days. You can make no noises ever. You must always be completely silent, unless I am with you. The toilet cannot be flushed but once a day, and only at night. You can bathe only at night, and only with cold water. The winters are deathly cold, and no extra blankets can be brought to you."
"Grandfather," Hermione interrupted, "you don't expect me to be here for that long, do you? Winter is months more away!"
"Yes, Hermione, it is. Please, let me continue."
"Yes, sir," she sighed, suddenly seeing this beautiful room as a very horrible prison.
"On Thursdays, maids come in here to clean. They cannot see you, no matter what. There is a set of stairs in the back of the closet in your bathroom that leads into an attic where you must hide quietly until they are done. You must keep this room as though no one, no one, lives in here. Do you understand?" he nodded, completing the large list of rules.
"Yes, sir," she replied forlornly.
"But, there is a bit of happiness for you," Dumbledore added as an afterthought. "Harry is staying in this wing of the house as well, and on Thursdays must join you in the attic. But I want nothing to happen, am I clear?" (Hermione nodded silently) "I am trusting that the two of you will act responsibly. And neither one of you can enter the other's room. I fixed that myself."
"Of course," Hermione nodded, feeling a little hope return to this dreary hide-away. "What about Ron and Draco?"
"They are staying in another wing of the house, and have a different set of rules to follow. But, Hermione, remember, you are only allowed to enter the attic on Thursdays, every other day, that door will be locked, as well as this door. You will be here for quite a while, so I suggest if you ever need a book, or want something new to do, you ask me when I'm here to bring you food. I will be back day after tomorrow with more food."
He handed her a large bundle of food.
"Make that last as long as possible," he nodded before turning to leave. "I will have you out of here as soon as possible, I promise."
"Right, Grandfather," Hermione nodded again, setting the food down on the vanity table top. "I love you."
"I love you," Dumbledore replied tiredly. He walked through the double doors, and shut them. A moment later, Hermione heard the lock of the door snap.
It sounded like a gunshot, a sound that ripped through her very being.
eep! Now what? Eh, I hope Lon can think of something! Oi, I'm drained, that took some serious thought... I'm now very very very tired, and am trying to think of the next thing to write/type... screw it, I'm going to bed... Review, pleases? :3 thanks!