Ron eyed Hermione suspiciously every minute and everywhere she went since the morning. Apparently, Ron had remembered about Fred and George's hushed remarks about "snippets of hair" earlier at dinner in the Great Hall, and woke up early from a nightmare involving garden scissors, a fistful of red hair, and mischevious twin laughter. When he came down to the common room, he caught a glimpse of a ghostly pale head in the fireplace. He felt awkward standing in the stairwell in his lovely striped pajama pants and staring into a strange, translucent head. The magical world did, however, continuously play tricks on poor Ron anyway.
During the whole day, Hermione always tried to steal away from the crowds and masses of students and teachers in the hallways and classes to try and slowly gather up a small carpetbag full of her stuff. Ron kept sneaking about and asking questions about what she was doing, where she was going, and why she'd lie to him. Harry seemed unaware and immune to everything going on until about lunchtime when he suddenly asked, "Who're you going after, Hermione?" She felt drained and grumpy from the lack of sleep last night and sleepily tried to avoid him. At nightfall, all her things were neatly packed into a compact plaid carpetbag, and she had been able to persuade Hagrid to take care of Crookshanks. She didn't have much of a good excuse to explain why, so she simply told him that the mass of fur was sick. Hagrid had looked confused and stared questionably at her and assured her Crookshanks was quite alright, but took him in anyway.
Now the plan was set; the entire dormitory would fall asleep (she was sure of that- Hermione visited the house elves and easily convinced them she needed to add something to everyone in Gryffindor's drinks. She then quickly prepared some Draught of Living Death and slipped a drop into everyone's pumpkin juice.), leaving her to sneak out of the house. She stole away Harry's Marauder's Map when he wasn't looking just before she decided to sneak out. If she encountered a teacher on his or her nightly patrol, it wasn't a problem. She carried a spray-bottle filled with a strong dose of Forgetfulness Potion securely under her cloak. Once the coast was clear, she'd creep and take a broom to use once she was outside. Everything was in place.
Tying a black cloak around her and slinging her carpetbag over one shoulder, she clipped on the bottle of Forgetfulness Potion and opened up the Marauder's Map. She slid the Fat Lady's portrait to the side. Looking back one last time, maybe in a long while, she turned and took a deep breath-
"Hermione."
Harry and Ron pivoted in their chairs- they must have hid there the entire time!
"Whatever it is you're doing, you're not going alone," Ron said loudly, completely aware that everyone else had a dose of Draught of Living Death. Hermione let her carpetbag slump to the floor. They were definitely coming, and she couldn't do anything about it.