AN: My apologies for another delayed update and thank you for your patience with my slow updating – hopefully, it won't be so long to wait again!
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Chapter Fifty Four: Proactive Pain.
Hours ticked by, as Andromeda rocked Teddy by the fireplace, murmuring reassurances. Andromeda paced, bouncing Teddy in her arms, then would sit rocking him, before standing and swaying him in her arms. But Hermione wasn't sure who was reassuring whom. Andromeda seemed to be pleaded for her daughter's safe return with every whispered hope to Teddy. Without seeing her, Hermione knew the older Witch was just as unsettled as her grandson, as she sniffled delicate tears back.
Hermione herself grew more distressed by the hour. With every minute that passed, another of her friends could be fighting for their lives; with every second becoming a moment in which death takes another from this world. Her anxiety grow with every devastating thoughts and she could barely hold herself down, as her mind fought to order her body to flee this hub of safety and go and fight for everything she believed in. But she had to trust in her friends. She had to trust in their abilities and convictions. She had to trust that they would be victorious. Or she would not make it through this nightmare with her mind intact.
"There you go, Teddy, my darling boy." Andromeda stroked his soft hair across his forehead in a loving gesture as he finally quieted, "They will come back for you. Your parents are so strong. They will come back. Sleep now, and when you wake, they will be with you."
"Finally asleep?" Hermione inquired quietly.
"Yes." Andromeda sighed, exhaustion creeping into her voice with the constant strain of worry, "I'm going to put him to bed and check to see if Lavender is okay. I'll be back soon."
Hermione listened as Andromeda left the room, closing the door tightly behind herself. Left alone with the crackling fire, Hermione shifted into a more comfortable position and sipped more pain relief potion. It made her feel as if she had had too much butterbeer, internal warm and emotions softened. It took the edge off of her nerves and her pain, as she toyed with her wand between her fingertips. She could leave now; apparate to Hogwarts and join the battle, but she held her ground another moment. Her mind tried to plan, anticipate what could happen, where would be the safest place to apparate, and how to find her comrades to be implemented in whatever plan they had created. But she knew no plan would work, as Harry had said a few weeks ago; "we plan, we arrive, and all hell breaks loose". It was about steeling her resolve and following it through.
As she stood to escape what had become a prison of safety, she felt the atmosphere of the room change subtly. She doubted someone with sight would have sensed it, but her heightened senses told her more than most appreciated. A crackle of magic hovered in the air around her, seemingly to capture her attention, before falling into her pocket. Hastily reached for it, Hermione pulled out a scrunched up ball of parchment that felt warm to the touch. Shaking it out impatiently, she held it up as if to read it. But, of course, there were no words to read, as she could not read them even if they were present. The parchment heated up hotter and hotter between her fingertips and she was forced to release the burning page. Gasping in pain, she sucked on a singed fingertips and frowned to herself. Suddenly, the parchment burst into flames, the heat radiating onto her face.
"Harry's dead." Draco's voice hissed through the crackling of the fire, before it fell to ashes at her feet, "Run."
"No!" Hermione choked out, clutched her heart desperately, "No! No! No! No! No!" Tears dripped down her checks and she swiped at them irritably. Turmoil tore through her body, even as her mind rejected the notion.
Harry couldn't be dead, he simply couldn't. The chosen one, who was destined to save all of the wizarding world from Voldemort's clutches, who was one of her oldest and dearest friends, could not be dead. It wasn't possible, not in her mind. No, she refused to believe Draco's missive. Without thinking, she stumbled out of the library and towards the exit. She couldn't bear to be in that suffocating sanctuary any longer. Even if it killed her too, she had to know for herself if Harry was truly dead. She had to feel his cold, lifeless hands in hers and know he was absolutely gone. Harry had escaped death more times than she could count; this could not be the end of her best friend. All of these years of fighting and planning and defensive strategy could not end in three cold words. It couldn't be that simple and it couldn't be right. Harry could not be dead.
Deep in the recesses of her mind, she knew she wasn't acting rationally, but her grief drove her logical mind to insanity, as she reached the ladder. Grasping the cool metal, she ascended. The door opened, setting off the alarm, and Hermione hurried to escape. She knew Andromeda would be rushing to defend the Order's most vulnerable, but she refused to be counted within that number any longer. She had to go, she had to fight, and she had to find her best friend and know the truth. After clambering out of small opening, she dragged her hand along the walls to guide her way out the old cottage and run down the sand dunes outside the property.
"Hermione!" Andromeda's voice carried on the wind whipping along the shore, shock and disbelief colouring her tone. Staggering down the slippery grains, Hermione barely heard Andromeda calling out her name, as she crossed the anti-apparation barrier.
"Hogsmeade!" Barely pausing, Hermione closed her eyes and pictured the perfect hidden and safe nook to land safely in, as she cringed at the sensation of apparition cramping her stomach. The whirlwind travel engulfed her form and the air warped.
In less than a second, she was gone.