Long time, no see.
Don't know if I mentioned this, but this is sort of an au where the wizarding war didn't happen when it did during the book/movie timeline. Hermione is indeed 18 as I never cleared that up, but it'll be addressed in the story because that weird underage shit aint my jam.
The group decided it would be best to get a few hours of rest, just to reset their brains before devising and executing an escape plan. Hermione, however, found no rest. While the gentle breathing of her fellow mates seemed to bounce off the walls, she couldn't get her eyelids to shut.
She kept her back turned to everyone, eyes fixated on a crack in the wall. Hermione estimated its length, how deep it could possibly go, and the possible causes of the crack. She just kept racking her brain for questions she could keep herself occupied with.
The slight sound of a quill scratching on paper made her head turn just a tad towards the noise. She figured it must be Snape, working on a skeleton of a plan. She curled herself up tighter, the small blanket off the back of the loveseat Harry and Ginny had taken up in not offering much padding from the chilled stone floor.
Hermione held her breath as she heard, who she assumed to be Snape, stand. The footsteps grew closer to her ears and before she could react, his cloak was draped over her shivering body. The motion was quick, Snape retreating back to his seat as fast as silent steps could take him.
She finally let out her breath, wondering what had compelled such a retreated man to perform an act of kindness. Hermione thought back to the incident with Lupin; how Snape had shielded her and her friends from possible danger with his entire body, his freezing hand falling tight upon her own.
There was one thing Hermione was now sure of; inside of Professor Severus Snape laid a sweet, yet dormant, man.
At this point, she knew sleep was avoiding her like the plague. She pretended to wake, giving a dramatic stretch. It didn't draw the older man's attention, even as she stood, wrapping the cloak around her shoulders. As Hermione walked closer, the black fabric dragged upon the ground like the train of a wedding dress.
"Thank you." She whispered, holding out a fistful of cloak to imply what she was referring to; only his dark eyes moved to her, the candle light dancing within his dark orbs. She saw him quirk the corner of his lips and raise an eyebrow in response. Clearly, it was his way of saying you're welcome.
"I'm glad you're awake. Other than Minerva, I believe you'll be the only other person in our group able to devise a reasonable plan." His tone was deep, sure not to rouse the others from their limited chance at sleep.
"Harry and Ron come up with good plans," Hermione sat at the chair across from his desk ", I just fine tune."
"You're selling yourself short, Miss Granger."
That comment surprised her. But she was quick to discount it. The worst case scenario… the end of the world, it always seemed to bring out the weirdest in people. It brought out the unexpected and he didn't necessarily mean that. Hermione gave a gentle smile in response, looking to her sneaker-clad feet.
"There's no way to apparate, which takes out all of the safest ways out."
"And by now, the hallways around the headmaster's office will be clogged up with those wretched things. We couldn't disarm the charm." Snape said, crossing out a few lines he had jotted down upon the parchment.
"We have a fireplace with no floo powder." Hermione took a longing look at the fireplace, ablaze with a warming, homey fire. Snape sighed heavily, unable to believe he never bothered to grab another pot of the damned stuff.
"Our only way is to go through the halls. Hogwarts is ancient… there must be hidden passageways and a way to find them." Hermione tapped at her chin, looking to Snape, who was clearly thinking about her idea.
"Not easy enough to find… sending a scout to look for close and usable passageways is a risk I'm unable to take." Snape said and Hermione agreed. Despite the circumstances, he was a teacher, and putting children into the direct line of danger goes against all his instincts.
"I could go." Hermione said.
"No," his answer was quick and firm ", you're far too valuable to put at risk."
Silence fell between them as they both brainstormed the best possible way to approach the situation at hand. Every idea either one of them thought respectively was never solid enough to share with one another.
"Last summer, I spent a month at home. There's this new muggle television show about zombies," Hermione started, her voice slow, as she knew her idea was good ", and not just in the show… but lots of other zombie muggle media, uses one method to navigate through the hoards."
Snape set his quill down and looked to her, interest written all over his face.
"The trick is to get one of the zombies and then cover yourself in their entrails," Hermione raised a hand as Snape was about to protest ", and I know it's disgusting. But if we mask our alive scent with dead scent… it could work. Again, I could volunteer to try it first."
Before either of them could say anything more, a pathetic excuse for a coughing fit broke out behind them. Snape stood and Hermione turned in her seat to see Ron, shivering like there's no tomorrow, coughing into his pale hand.
Hermione's mind quickly fell to the scratches and the story of the bumbling man in the crowd. She felt her chest tighten and hands fold themselves into stern fists. She couldn't keep it a secret… that's how people got killed in all the horror movies.
Snape had seen her knuckles go white and her neck muscles contract.
"Miss Granger, is there something you'd like to tell me about your… friend?" He asked, jaw tight.
"He had… scratches on his arm when he came back from the town. Something about a… stumbling man with a… vacant stare." Her voice was a whisper and she could barely get two words out before her tongue seemed to forget how to work.
The older man took in a sharp breath; the already nervous Minerva waking from her slumber upon one of the many comfy chairs.
"What? Did they try to get in?" She whispered at the pair.
Hermione simply pointed to Ron; his pale face more pale than it has ever been before, a sheen layer of sweat upon his skin. Hermione stood and walked closer, holding a small candle to his face to find drops of blood pooling at the corners of his mouth.
Her worst fears had been actualized; one of her friends was going to die in front of her. She had always thought this day would come, with the threat of a wizarding war looming above their heads. But as their final year had come, she was able to let that fear go. Within a second, that feeling had crawled back up inside of her and burrowed itself into her soul.
She fast-walked away, setting the candle back upon Snape's desk, and then buried her face deep within her professor's cloak. Hermione took in a deep breath, the faint smell of potions and strong smell of manly musk reminding her of a more simple time; potions class in fifth year, when Professor Snape would lean over her cauldron to check her work. Everything before now seemed so simple… she had taken it all for granted.
The plugged her ears as the two professors talked about how to handle the situation, not wanting to look back until they were ready to do their deed so she could say goodbye. Hermione shut her eyes tight, doing her best to remember all the jokes Ron ever made, all the gifts he had bought her, and all the little moments in between that had made their friendship so quintessential. Ron and Harry had made her time at Hogwarts more than just studying; they had included her, taking her on adventures.
One third of the Golden Trio was going to disappear and she wasn't ready for all of this.
And Hermione wanted to cry. But the tears wouldn't come forward.
She just kept plugging her ears, waiting until she could kiss his clammy forehead and tell him goodbye.
The first sound to pierce her makeshift earplugs was a wet, gurgling screech. The second was the scream of her good friend, Luna Lovegood.