"Long, Long, Long"

Chapter 12

Hermione returned to work happier than she'd been in a while. It made her feel guilty that she felt so when a friend had just died, but seeing Harry and Ron again--and then being asked to go with Harry and Dumbledore and leave her boring guarding job behind--had raised her spirits.

Hermione leaned against the wall in the St. Mungo's lobby, lost in her thoughts and staring up at the sky through the glass panes in the ceiling. It was sunny that day, and the bright light made Hermione squint. She imagined that rather than being trapped at St. Mungo's, deliberately deaf to the whines of the patients, she was still at school, that the air outside was warm and that soon whatever class she was in would be over and she and her classmates would sit and talk by the lake, keeping an eye out for the giant squid. Hermione smiled at the thought, momentarily closing her eyes…

A scream shattered Hermione's daydream.

Hermione snapped her eyes open, looking around. Several people were screaming now, and it was apparent why--at least ten hooded people with their wands raised were blocking the entrance to the lobby, and more of them were apparating each second.

Hermione stood, paralyzed in shock until the people--clearly Death Eaters--suddenly started attacking all the healers in the lobby, along with all the patients that got in their way. Hermione was shaken from her horrified trance and she whipped out her wand, stunning any Death Eater she could.

Around her, the other guards were doing the same, but it didn't seem like their spells were doing anything; as soon as one of them stunned a Death Eater, the Death Eater would regain consciousness as one of his or her fellows cast the counter-spell. Some of the Death Eaters were running out of the lobby and up the stairs to the other parts of the hospital. Hermione tore after them, stunning Death Eaters that got in her way.

She took the stairs two at a time, trying to keep up with the Death Eaters ahead of her. "STUPEFY!" she cried at a Death Eater opening the door to the second floor.

He or she fell to the ground and another one, up the stairs a way said, "Enner--"

"STUPEFY!" screamed Hermione, stopping the Death Eater mid-spell.

"Avada Kedavra!" called a voice up the stairs and Hermione saw a jet of green light hit the wall before her.

Hermione didn't hesitate to step over the fallen Death Eater and run down the third floor corridor, pushing aside surprised healers and shouting to anyone in sight, "Death Eater attack! All of you hide somewhere and lock the doors to the patients' rooms!"

Most of the healers did as Hermione asked but some panicked and tried to make a run for the stairs. "NO!" screamed Hermione as the stairwell door flew open and two Death Eaters tumbled onto the third floor. Screams erupted once more and Hermione shoved people out of the way and into rooms as she ran back towards the attackers.

"Stupefy!" she shouted. The spell whizzed past one of the Death Eater's ears and turned their attention to her.

"Avada Kedavra!" he returned, narrowly missing Hermione once more.

Hermione heard another wave of screams from the floor above and threw one last stunning spell at the pair of Death Eaters before disapparating to the third floor. Up there, Hermione saw at least five dead people strewn over the floor and three Death Eaters attempting to break through a locked door.

"Impedimenta!" Hermione shouted, aiming her wand at the closest one. The spell hit the surprised Death Eater and he shot sideways into the other two, who fell to the floor in a heap.

Hermione enjoyed the effect of her spell too long; one of the Death Eaters sprang to his feet and cried in fury, "Crucio!"

Hermione tried to dodge the curse, but it was well-placed and hit her anyway. Suddenly, she could feel nothing but the most intense pain all over her body. She knew she was screaming in her agony, but didn't care. Then, the spell was lifted and she found herself panting on the floor, tears in her eyes. While she gasped for breath, the three Death Eaters approached her, laughing.

One raised his wand, "Avada--"

But Hermione was faster. She pulled her wand out from under her and pointed it at her torturer, "Avada Kedavra!" she yelled in rage.

The Death Eater fell, dead, beside her. The other two stared at her in apparent shock before raising their wands simultaneously and opening their mouths to speak. Hermione jumped to her feet and apparated to the fourth floor before they could curse her.

Hermione didn't see anyone for a moment, but then down the hall a ways she saw a Death Eater notice her and then run towards her, she started running in the other direction, throwing stunning spells over her shoulder that apparently missed, as she still heard the Death Eater's heavy footfalls behind her. She was dangerously close to reaching the end of the hallway when she saw two dueling wizards through an open door on her left.

Hermione threw herself through the door just in time to see the hooded wizard throw his opponent against the wall harshly with some sort of jinx. The man, who was not wearing a guard's robe but who looked a bit familiar to Hermione fell to the floor unconscious and the Death Eater turned on her.

Hermione rushed over to her fallen ally, fending off a hex the Death Eater threw at her with a shield charm. Pushing the hair out of his face, Hermione gasped and asked, "Neville?"

Neville's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at Hermione dazedly. There was a nasty gash on the back of his head where he had hit the wall and Hermione looked in horror at the blood on the floor beside Neville. Turning angrily to the Death Eater, who had been thrown backwards by Hermione's strong shielding charm. She raised her wand and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

The Death Eater looked momentarily surprised as the curse hit him squarely in the chest. Hermione started to turn her attention back to Neville when the Death Eater who had chased her down the hall crashed through the door breathing heavily, his wand raised.

Hermione prepared to shield herself once more, but the Death Eater suddenly clutched at his left arm and instantly disapparated, leaving Hermione to stare at where he had been in surprise.

Still looking around suspiciously, Hermione sat next to Neville and quickly examined his wound. Neville was fading in and out of consciousness, and Hermione realized in panic that the color was steadily draining from his face. "It's alright, Neville, hold on, I need to get you a healer," she said quickly, jumping to her feet and calling down the corridor, "I NEED A HEALER! QUICKLY! ROOM 422!"

No one answered her call immediately; the hallway remained deserted. "A HEALER!" screamed Hemrione desperately, starting down the hallway, "NOW! SOMEONE'S INJURED IN ROOM 422!" Hermione felt tears well up in her eyes and her dry throat prevented her from yelling as loud as she wanted to.

Finally, a short woman came running from a room down the hall in the direction of Hermione's shouts.

"Down here!" cried Hermione, relieved, running back to Neville, the healer close behind.

Hermione kneeled beside her former classmate and she whispered as soothingly as she could, "It's okay, Neville, a healer's here, you'll be fine…" Neville didn't move or react in any way to Hermione's words. His eyes were closed, and his face was a sickeningly pale white. "Neville," said Hermione, shaking his shoulder as the healer kneeled beside her, "Neville!"

The healer looked sadly over at Hermione, shaking her head. Hermione caught her look and shouted louder than she meant to, "No! You're wrong! He's just been knocked out!" Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she shook Neville again. "Neville! Neville, you'll be okay!" she sobbed.

The truth finally reaching her, Hermione slumped against the wall, crying into her knees.

Neville was dead.

…

Draco didn't find out about the attack on St. Mungo's until he read about it in the Daily Prophet the following morning. He was at his desk early, and thought he'd read the newspaper he'd bought downstairs in the lobby. There, in enormous black type were the words:

DEATH EATER ATTACK AT ST. MUNGO'S KILLS ONE-THIRD OF HEALERS ON STAFF

The article below explained when and how the attack had happened and that in addition to the healers, ten patients and one guard were killed and twenty others were injured. The journalist who had written the article expressed his views that the Death Eaters' target was the healers, and that the other deaths and injuries were merely people who had gotten in the way.

Guards on duty at the time of the attack claimed that they were outnumbered by at least three to one and that it was only due to the Death Eaters' sudden departure that not more people were killed. Though said guards are only authorized to perform stunning spells on attackers, Hermione Granger, the youngest of the guards, confessed to the murder of two Death Eaters who were recognized as Robert Chesterton and Anthony Hubbard.

Draco choked on the coffee he'd been drinking at the mention of Hermione and coughed loudly, earning himself concerned looks from his colleagues. He recovered and continued reading…

Ms. Granger (pictured above, left) was questioned by Ministry officials and Head of Security at St. Mungo's Patricia West after the attack and explained the circumstances in which she had used the Unforgivable Curse. In both cases she admitted to acting in anger, though in the murder of Mr. Chesterton, it was also an act of self-defense. Ms. Granger has been temporarily suspended from her work at St. Mungo's until her hearing on the twelfth of May.

That was all the article said about Hermione, so Draco stopped reading and looked up at her picture at the top of the page. He realized at once why he hadn't immediately recognized her; her hair was frizzier than usual and coming out of the hair tie she'd had it in, her robes were torn in several places along the bottom and at her shoulder, something that looked horribly like blood was smeared on the sleeve of her uniform and her hands, and she looked a mixture of exhausted, furious, and sad. It was clear that she'd been crying and she stood in the St. Mungo's lobby, where the remaining healers were tending to the injured.

All in all, it was the most depressing sight Draco had ever seen in his entire life. Hermione looked sullenly at the camera and every so often shifted her weight from one leg to the other or rubbing her bloodshot eyes with the back of her hand. Draco jerked his eyes from the photo and tossed the Prophet into the nearest trash bin without bothering to read the rest.

Draco felt suddenly furious at many people. First on the list were the Death Eaters that had attacked St. Mungo's the day before. What kind of sick, evil people kill the healers at a hospital in the middle of a war, when everyone needs medical help more than ever? Draco thought angrily. The kind of people you associate with, said the cruel side of Draco's brain. Not by choice, he argued with himself. Even so, he was a part of this group; he was an ally of those evil people he hated so much.

Next on Draco's hated list were the Ministry officials that were acting as though Hermione had done something unforgivable by trying to protect the healers and patients in the hospital. She was, after all, a guard. Wasn't that her job? And even if it weren't, this was a war; people on the opposing side were supposed to die. The Death Eaters certainly didn't have a problem with it. So why was Hermione potentially facing a sentence in Azkaban?

Draco fumed silently some more and finished his cup of coffee. The desks around him started to fill; it was time for him to start another day of helping those he hated so much escape the fate they deserved at the hands of people who were authorized to kill them.

…

Hermione sat in her favorite armchair and groaned, frustrated, up at the ceiling. It was the first day of her suspension from work and already, at ten o'clock in the morning, she was tired of sitting around and doing nothing. Why couldn't she just go to work? They were short on staff as it was without sending people home.

Well, she was the only one who'd been sent home, but still, after the attack, weren't they the slightest bit worried they'd be caught unprepared again? Hermione groaned angrily again and closed her eyes.

It was bad enough she had a hearing on the twelfth, but then the Daily Prophet had spread the news that she was a murderer across the entire magical community. It wasn't as if she'd really wanted to kill those people, but stunning wasn't very effective when others just reversed the spell right away. And she'd been angry. That was the part she was upset with herself for. She was a guard and she couldn't control her anger and frustration when she was under pressure.

But there was one bit of information she'd gained from this whole experience: the Ministry didn't expect the people on their side to arrest or kill all the Death Eaters and win the war that way--they expected Harry to duel Voldemort and whoever survived would determine the outcome of the war. The Death Eaters clearly had a different approach, which made Hermione wonder why the Ministry hadn't come up with a new plan.

In the midst of these thoughts, a snowy white owl came in Hermione's window and landed gracefully on the arm of Hermione's chair, startling her considerably. "Hello, Hedwig," said Hermione quietly, recognizing the owl. She took the parchment from Hedwig's outstretched leg and smoothed it out over her knee. Taking another sip of her tea, Hermione read the letter:

Hermione,

I reading the Prophet that you are in a bit of trouble with the Ministry over the attack at St. Mungo's. Dumbledore has decided that it would be best for us to get you before your hearing on the twelfth; he is worried that if it doesn't go well, we may not have another opportunity to do so. We will be at your apartment at ten o'clock in the evening on the ninth. You should pack a small bag with anything you need.

Since you will not appear at the hearing, the Ministry will probably file you as a missing person. No one will know where you are except for us. Dumbledore wants you to think over your decision carefully before joining us.

Send your decision with Hedwig--she'll wait until you're ready to reply.

Harry

Hermione stood and tossed the letter onto her desk. Dumbledore was clearly under the impression that Hermione would miss her current life if she chose to go with him and Harry, but Hermione had rarely been so sure of her decision in her entire life. She hated everything about how she lived: the boring hours as a guard until the attack during which she had broken the law; the time she spent completely alone when she wasn't at work; the lack of friends; the depression she felt when she realized she wasn't helping in the war effort.

Hermione finally found an old bit of parchment in the bottom drawer of her desk and quickly dipped her quill in the inkwell on her desk. She wrote:

Harry,

I am positive that I want to help you and Dumbledore. I feel absolutely useless and alone here and have no desire to be put in Azkaban for years. I'll expect you at ten on the ninth.

Here Hermione paused, wondering whether to tell Harry about Neville's death in the letter or later in person. She closed her eyes to keep them from watering, as they always did at the thought of Neville. He didn't have to fight the Death Eaters--they weren't after him--and yet he had, bravely. If she hadn't panicked, then maybe…

Hermione shook her head furiously at herself. The last thing she needed was to blame herself for Neville's death. She wasn't a healer, she didn't know how to save him, and she had gotten someone who would have been able to as fast as she could.

Despite her reasoning, Hermione felt the tears come anyway, and quickly signed her name at the bottom of her letter before tossing it aside and curling up in her cozy chair, crying quietly as Harry's owl hooted softly at her side.

…

Harry and Dumbledore came, as they had promised, at ten o'clock on the ninth. Hermione had packed her bag earlier in the day and sat silently in her apartment, waiting for them. At ten o'clock precisely, she heard two cracking sounds in the hallway outside her door and was startled out of her thoughts. The sounds were followed by a brief knocking on her front door.

Hermione jumped out of her seat and opened the door, smiling at the sight of the two cloaked figures before her. "Harry!" she said warmly, giving him a hug.

"Hey, Hermione. How have you been?" he sounded concerned.

"I've been alright," said Hermione with a sigh, gesturing for them to enter. They did so and she closed her front door.

"What a terrible incident the attack on St. Mungo's was," commented Dumbledore, noticing the Daily Prophet in which Hermione was mentioned on a nearby table. "The loss of the healers was devastating. The hospital is incredibly understaffed now and more patients come every day." Harry and Hermione nodded solemnly. "In addition, you did not come off so well."

Hermione shook her head, unsure whether Dumbledore was going to reprimand her or if he understood.

Dumbledore, seeming to sense her uncertainty, said, "I have never thought of death as a solution, but I do not blame you for what you did, Ms. Granger. I do understand, though I would hope that, given any other alternative, you would not resort to an Unforgivable Curse again."

Hermione nodded and Dumbledore patted her on the shoulder in a kindly manner.

"Now, we should be off. Do you have your belongings together?"

"Yes, sir," said Hermione, grabbing her bag from the kitchen table.

"Excellent." Dumbledore drew his wand and pointed it at a used candle lying on its side, "Portus." The candle glowed blue and the three of them leaned forward and touched it together. "Three, two, one," muttered Dumbledore, and on the last count, Hermione felt the old jerking sensation associated with traveling by portkey. Her apartment disappeared and she traveled through blackness briefly before landing hard on her feet outside an old wooden cabin in the middle of what seemed a dense forest.

The trees surrounding them were dark and the only light came from the few stars that sparkled through the treetops. Hermione heard an animal noise in the distance and automatically grabbed Harry's arm. He laughed and followed Dumbledore to the front door of the house, which Dumbledore unlocked with his wand and opened.

The cabin had three rooms: a bathroom, a living room/kitchen, and a bedroom. It was dusty and a bit cramped, but Hermione actually found it rather cozy, especially after Dumbledore lit several candles with his wand and the space was better-lit.

Dumbledore and Harry lowered their hoods for the first time that evening and Hermione noticed how extremely tired both of them looked. It didn't really surprise her, knowing that they must be busy constantly and not have much time to sleep, but it saddened her nonetheless.

"This is the vacation house of my good friend Charles McCoy. He kindly agreed to let us use it for as long as we need," said Dumbledore, opening the two doors leading from the front room and peering inside. "He is a wizard but when he is on vacation, he likes to rest his magical abilities and live like a muggle, which is why this cabin is not charmed to be larger than it appears.

"Since we are short on space, I'm afraid sleeping arrangements are limited." Dumbledore conjured a simple, low bed out of thin air. "One of you may sleep here, the other, on the sofa, which, despite its old appearance, is actually quite comfortable." Harry and Hermione nodded and Hermione suddenly yawned involuntarily in tiredness. Dumbledore smiled and said, "We'll talk in the morning. For now, both of you should get some rest." He opened the door to the lone bedroom and left them.

"Do you want the bed or the sofa?" asked Harry, rubbing his eyes.

Hermione shrugged. "You should have the bed; I'll take my chances with the sofa. You need the sleep more than I do."

Harry smiled and tossed a bag he'd been carrying over his shoulder onto the bed. Hermione sat on the sofa and found that Dumbledore had been correct; it was rather comfortable. She closed her eyes briefly, intending to get up soon and change, but immediately dropped off into a deep sleep, not to be woken for hours.

…

On the thirteenth of May, the news of Hermione's disappearance was everywhere. The entire front page of the Daily Prophet was composed of a large picture of Hermione and an article describing how she had failed to show up at her hearing the day before.

Draco walked into the Ministry at the usual time and did a double-take at the sight of Hermione's photo and the headline in bold type above it:

ST. MUNGO'S GUARD CHARGED WITH DEATH EATER MURDERS REPORTED MISSING

An old picture of Hermione, taken before the start of the war, smiled at him in her Hogwarts uniform. Draco bought a paper off the old man selling them and started reading it on the way to his desk.

Hermione Granger, accused of murdering two Death Eaters during the attack on St. Mungo's, where she worked as a guard, failed to appear at her hearing, which was scheduled to take place yesterday at 9:00 am. After waiting for close to an hour, Ministry officials visited Ms. Granger's London apartment to find it vacant. As Ms. Granger was temporarily suspended from her position at the hospital, no one has seen or heard from her since the day of the attack. She has been classified as a missing person as of this morning…

Draco skimmed the rest of the article, searching for any clue as to what might have happened to Hermione and found:

…Several aurors that wish to remain anonymous suggested that perhaps Ms. Granger was taken from her home by Death Eaters who wanted revenge for the death of their associates. Others suspect that she fled for fear of her sentence after the hearing…

Draco shook his head upon reading this, thinking that neither suspicions were likely to be true. Hermione was not easily frightened; she would never run away from any sentence the Ministry may have given her. In all probability, she would have gotten off, so why make herself look guilty by leaving without telling anyone?

As for being kidnapped by Death Eaters, it was highly unlikely that the Dark Lord would care enough about a couple of lost Death Eaters to go through the trouble of revenge. And if it was revenge, why not just kill her and cast the Dark Mark above, as they did with all the others? It didn't make sense.

What Draco couldn't figure out was what really might have happened. If, as he suspected, the Prophet was wrong in its inferences, what had happened to Hermione? The uncertainty troubled Draco. Where was she? Was she alright? Draco wished more than anything at that moment that he knew.

He looked down at Hermione's happy face and smiled slightly at memories of their brief time together. He then quickly jerked himself back to reality and threw the paper away, not trusting himself to delve any further into those happier times.