Chapter 12: A Disappearance
The echo of light footsteps rang throughout the Great Hall, sharp sounds born only for a few moments before dying in the vast spread of emptiness the castle now afforded. New steps took the place of old, their cyclical births and deaths reverberating off stone walls and then into nothingness. Slowly winding her way about tables and benches, Hermione softly ran her fingers against the cool wood of the smooth surfaces. Steps slow but unfaltering, she made her way to the head table, where she stood tall, taking in the lay of the land. Her eyes were assaulted by the bizarrely neat and orderly. It seemed the world might have made more sense had dirty dishes littered the tables, wet spills puddled the floor, or benches been pushed askew—anything to reflect the chaos that had taken place here just a few hours earlier. But no, the room stood tidy and spotless. The doors gaped wide and open, hopelessly waiting for students to loiter in their frames and block incoming traffic, filling the room all the way up to its enchanted ceiling in contented prattle. Instead stood a thick air of anticipation that made the room's sole inhabitant rather jumpy.
Taking a seat, she shivered slightly, the friendless chill of the room wrapping about her. Hermione absentmindedly smoothed the lines of her skirt, vexed nerves finding a physical outlet in the constant play of fingers tugging at pleated wool. It was strange, sitting there without her robe. While the school uniform provided a small sense of familiarity and sameness, without her robes she felt slightly less protected. She thought the feeling entirely appropriate. She sighed, glancing down at her skirt once more, wishing to see those familiar colors fill the emptiness surrounding her. But it was not to be. She was now in a headquarter of sorts, as well as a probable battleground. Hogwarts was no longer a school, just as Hermione Granger was no longer a student.
There had been a time when she had hated the tumult of this room, the bothersome blather that had assaulted her early every morning for the past seven years. Now as she glanced around the unfilled space, a feeling of regret came over her. She should have appreciated the exuberance of her classmates, their enthusiasm and cheery voices. Now there were neither students nor staff to fill the walls, to bring life into this aged castle.
Hogwarts' professors and personnel were currently traveling across Europe to the various homes of unknowing parents, who were to receive a surprise in the form of their very own flooing child. From what Hermione had heard so far, the parents had been more than understanding of Dumbledore's decision. She thought she shouldn't be so grateful that this was the generation that had seen the ravages of the first war. But it did afford her some sense of comfort. This war-induced understanding might win them some supporters. And that support that was desperately needed.
Dumbledore had ensconced himself in his office, busy applying strategies to paper with an overworked quill. Professor McGonagall had flooed to the ministry to see about the delay of auror support, as well as to make contact with those of the Order who were not yet aware of the situation. The headmaster had made it clear that whoever wished to participate in the battle was more than welcome to do so. In turn, all the professors had vowed their allegiance to him. Yet the current emptiness of the castle had caused a seed of doubt to take root in Hermione's mind. Why were they not here yet?
The faint stirrings of suspicion were interrupted by the sound of familiar voices drawing ever closer. As Harry and Ron walked into the Great Hall she smiled and left the head of the room, going to sit next to them at their usual spots at the Gryffindor table.
"Was that the last of them, then?"
Ron nodded, taking a seat next to Hermione. "Yes, Colin was the last to floo home. Bloody hard to get him into the fireplace. He didn't want to miss a photo opportunity. His last shot was of me, watching him get into the fireplace. Said it was a classic." Ron snickered.
Harry smirked for a moment before seriously adding, "Dumbledore's working on closing the floo system right now. He told me that we're to stay here tonight. I guess he'd rather not have us running about the place while things are so unpredictable. But he said he'll be here soon enough, and then we can go over our course of action."
Hermione nodded thoughtfully.
Ron looked impressed at the empty room. "It's tragic, really. We've got the whole castle to ourselves, and here we are, caged up like animals." He shook his head in faux disgust.
Hermione grinned. "I would hardly call this being cooped up." She gestured to the immense space before them.
Harry watched the sweeping motion of her hand, nodding softly. "Hopefully it won't stay empty for too long. Fudge isn't all that reliable…McGonagall better convince him to send reinforcements soon, or we'll have to follow everyone else's example and leave. Even with Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape—there's no way that we'll be ready to face Voldemort and whatever company he's keeping." Harry's voice began to take on the desperate tone that had worried Hermione only a day before.
She patted his hand charitably. "Don't worry. McGonagall can be very convincing. Besides, there are quite a few alumni who are on their way, as well as those in the Order. We just have to be patient. It will take time for them to get things in place. This wasn't planned, you know." Seeing Harry's dubious expression, Hermione tried harder to convince him. "Besides, Fudge won't ignore the evidence. With your dreams and Professor Snape's findings, he can't possibly stonewall us forever. It would ruin his career if Hogwarts was attacked and he made no move to help us."
Harry looked at Hermione sharply. "Did you ever find out the specifics of what Snape told Dumbledore?"
Hermione shook her head. "I think if the specifics were important we would know them by now. Whatever Professor Snape told the Headmaster…he believed it. And that should be enough." Her last sentence had sounded a bit defense. Hermione wondered where that had come from.
Harry nodded thoughtfully. "I guess it doesn't really matter. I'm glad his information backed me up though. At least it made some sense of my dreams." He looked sad for a moment before recovering. "Well, Dumbledore isn't here yet. What do you want to do while we wait?"
Ron had his mouth half open in response when the harsh sound of steady, rapid footsteps cut through the air. Sweeping through the room, Severus entered in long, determined strides, followed by an edgy figure tailing his hasty heels.
Whatever suggestion Ron had had was quickly transformed into a loud exclamation. "Neville!"
Hermione jumped up in surprise. "Neville, what are you doing here? I thought you'd been sent off hours ago!"
Neville looked about to answer but was cut off by a foul tempered Snape, who asserted acidly, "Mr. Longbottom was indeed sent home. Unfortunately, Hagrid and he both returned, as they were unable to locate his grandmother." Severus glared at Neville. "As your friend is…of age…he is legally able to make his own decisions." Severus turned to face Harry. "And for whatever reason, he has decided his place is here, with you, Mr. Potter." Severus voice simmered to a low, dangerous growl.
Harry's brows rose in surprise at Severus' accusatory tone. "I never asked Neville to stay with me."
Severus moved towards Harry, and though there was no longer much of a difference in height, the angered man towered over him none the less. He glowered at Harry archly. "No, you didn't. It must be wonderful to inspire such loyalty in your friends. They are willing to go to their deaths for you. You should pray that they don't." Severus spit the words out in a warning. He brushed past the group, stalked towards the other side of the room, and turned his back to them as he took a seat in front of the fireplace.
All eyes were fixed on Snape for a long while.
Ron was the first to recover. "What was that?" he asked, bewildered.
Harry shook his head. "I don't want to know." He brought his eyes to grimly rest on Neville. "Well, welcome to the group."
The brown haired boy smiled wanly. "Good to be here, I guess." He took a hesitant look at Snape, who hadn't moved from his spot by the fire.
Ron grabbed Neville by the arm. "Don't worry about him, mate. Come on, I'll challenge you to a game of chess. By the time I win, Dumbledore should be here and we can work on some real strategy."
Neville smiled, and the two traveled to another corner of the room, far away from Snape and his blackened mood.
Harry took a step towards them and then turned back to watch Hermione curiously.
"Coming?"
Hermione bit her lip, glancing to Snape for a moment, and then back at Harry.
"In a bit. I need to go take care of that." She sighed, motioning to the angry figure whose back was turned to them.
Harry examined her face studiously, his head cocked slightly. "You really care for him, don't you?"
Hermione paused, her eyes straying towards the sullen professor. "Yes," she said quietly, "I do".
Harry nodded slowly. "Well, I'm sure you won't be missing anything. You know how cocky Ron gets when he's playing chess." Harry smirked. "Have a nice chat." He gave her a meaningful look before joining his friends.
Hermione smiled at Harry's retreating form as she watched him walk away. She knew he didn't like Snape—never had. The fact that he accepted her caring for their professor spoke volumes about the man Harry was becoming. She was so grateful for his friendship.
Her thoughts quickly moving to Severus, Hermione turned to face him. He was a slab of black sitting on a bench; shoulders slumped, he gloomily stared into the fireplace. With some trepidation, Hermione approached him. It was quiet in this part of the room; the boys' voices barely carried— just a faint murmur that was even softer than the crackling of the fire.
She hadn't been particularly silent in her approach, yet Severus made no move to look at her or acknowledge her presence. She sighed softly and took a seat next to him on the bench. They sat there until Hermione felt the need to break the heavy silence.
"You didn't have to yell at Harry, you know. He's not the reason I'm staying." Getting no response from him, she said sarcastically, "Of course, I might be being completely egotistical right now, and you're upset for an entirely different reason." She looked at Severus expectantly. He in turn said nothing. They were quiet again for long minutes.
"Are you angry with me?"
Severus turned around suddenly, his face coming close to her own as he did so. "Yes", he murmured softly, his eyes meetings her just for a moment before he turned back to the fire.
Hermione frowned at him. She sighed, letting the silence take them over.
She watched the fire jumping before her, its steady crackle and burn enthralling her even as she fought exasperation. It comforted her as it warmed her chilled skin, her arm gently grazing Severus' side as she relaxed. She looked up at his face. She was so tired, and she didn't want to argue with him.
Letting her hand discreetly make its way over to Severus', she insinuated her small fingers into his palm, squeezing ever so slightly. "It'll be alright," she whispered, "I promise."
Of course, it was an empty assurance, and one that she knew she had no right to make. But nevertheless it had the desired affect. Severus' hand came to life, gripping her firmly—almost uncomfortably so. But Hermione didn't withdraw her hand. She squeezed back, the firm pressure assuring them both of something they had yet to put into words.
Hermione stretched, slowing coming into consciousness with a terrible yawn and a few bleary blinks of the eye. Gingerly bringing her hands up to her head, she felt the brambly bird's nest that had once been an attractive cascade of curls. Oh, that was lovely.
The night had been long and unfulfilling. Dumbledore had failed to make an appearance; they assumed he must have been terribly busy. Severus had gone back and forth between Dumbledore's office and the Great Hall, aiding Dumbledore with what he could, and then returning to the Hall to check on Hogwarts' remaining four students. He looked more cross with every one of his entrances—whether it was due to the information Dumbledore had given him or the ever increasing state of anxiety that they all felt, Hermione was not sure. Eventually, she had given up waiting for Dumbledore and instead had conjured them all bedding to be lain across the stone floor. After some rather feeble attempts to lighten the mood, they had all drifted off, each to their own disturbed dreams.
Hermione now sat up and surveyed the Great Hall. The boys must have gone to the bathroom; their beds were rumpled and empty. She frowned, wondering how long they'd been gone. Her worries were interrupted by a steady, buzzing sound. Hermione turned around, only to smile as she saw Severus dozing quietly in his chair. He was breathing softly, the regular rise and fall of his chest the only other recognizable sign of his sleep. She wondered how anyone could relax while sitting so straight. She should have assumed as much though. She hardly expected him to be curled up in a little ball, drool coming from his mouth. Hermione giggled at the thought, running her hands through her hair as she did so, attempting to straighten out her tangled locks.
She collapsed onto her bed once more, sighing as she glanced around the still empty room. She had expected the place would be crawling with aurors by now. Evidently the ministry was not taking the threat seriously. Fudge was probably being especially stubborn about recognizing their needs. Or perhaps she had overestimated McGonagall's abilities of persuasion.
Hermione shivered and noticed the fire had died; there were only a few orange embers where once had lived a healthy flame. Not looking, she reached for her blanket, still warm with the heat of her body. Expecting the soft feel of a down comforter, Hermione pulled her hand back when she felt a rough and fibrous fabric. Looking down, she grinned wickedly, wrapping the cloak around herself. She glanced over at Severus' sleeping body fondly. He didn't have to do that. But she was awfully glad that he had.
Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by an exhausted looking Dumbledore, who limped into the Great Hall with less energy than she had ever seen him.
"Good morning, Ms. Granger."
Nodding, Hermione rose, noticing Severus stir from his place on the chair.
"Have you heard from Minerva?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Not yet, Severus. But it is early yet. I have every hope she will arrive within the next few hours."
Severus shook his head in disgust. "Fudge is giving you a hard time because he doesn't want to take the word of a former Death Eater. Had your information come from any other source, I guarantee the place would be swarming with aurors at this very moment."
"Ah, now Severus, let us not be bitter. The minister is taking his time in responding, that is true. But it very well may be his opinion of me as an old fogy that is causing the delay."
Hermione raised her eyebrows at Dumbledore's wit, whereas Severus just scowled.
"But let us not dwell on such dark thoughts. I fear there will be time for that soon enough." Dumbledore's eyes made its way towards the great tables near them. "We will eat breakfast, and wait for our young men to arrive before we discuss any plans."
Hermione's eyes wandered towards the heavily laden table which she had failed to notice before. It seemed that the house elves had outdone themselves.
The table, empty when she had fallen asleep, was now heavily filled with an assortment of breakfast foods. It seemed the house elves had overlooked the fact that practically the school's entire population had vacated the premises. Nevertheless, the meal looked delicious. Hermione had no doubt the boys would smell it from wherever they had gone to, especially since they'd had no dinner last night. Her eyes made their way to a basket of ripe fruits that shone happily in the morning light.
Snape was the first towards the table, pouring himself a great cup of coffee and then sinking back into his chair. He nursed his mug with both hands, scowling as Dumbledore approached a platter heaping with sweets. Hermione stared from her apple to the pile of danishes that Dumbledore was eyeing. They looked dreadfully sweet. She was sure the amount of sugar in the icing was enough to send a grown man into a diabetic coma.
Hermione shook her head as she watched Dumbledore make his way to the mountain of pastries, each sickeningly sweet confection glazed in a unique color. "Would you like one?" he asked Hermione, his arm motioning for her to help herself. She shook her head. Dumbledore looked upon her apple in amusement. "We only live once, Ms. Granger." Severus and Hermione watched as Dumbledore extended a hand towards the sweets, his fingers hovering just above a particularly saccharine looking treat. His hand made brief contact, and then in a sudden blink…he disappeared. Hermione froze in shock, staring stupidly at the empty space before them— where the Headmaster had been standing only a moment before. Turning her head to meet equally astounded eyes, she whispered, "He's gone."