Into the Vanishing Cabinet

Attack

It was a Tuesday morning.

It was a Tuesday morning on the fourteenth of June.

It was a Tuesday morning on the fourteenth of June and Hermione couldn't quite remember when she had awoken to a more beautiful day. In fact, if she were to add up all the fair weather days during the term so far, they would pale in comparison to the stunning beauty of that nine o'clock.

To be honest, it was quite difficult to roll oneself out of bed when you did didn't have a single class until one o'clock, and when that class was Muggle Studies…. why bother? Even so, Hermione was determined to get in a bit of studying in after breakfast with Ron, even if he would baulk and give her that look and whine until her ear near fell off. Or she threatened to hex him.

Groaning, she pulling her knees up to gather more warmth.

Perhaps she wouldn't be that determined… at the moment.

There was sunshine pouring in from the window next to the bed, splashing upon the floor and up half the four-poster. One of the other girls must have opened the drapes; Hermione remembered closing them the night before.

Outside, there wasn't even a cloud. Completely blue. Robin's egg blue.

"Hermione?"

She recognized Ginny's voice and pulled the sheets up over her head, giving a barely audible groan.

"You're not up yet?" The redhead was standing in the doorway.

Hermione looked over the comforter at her, pursing her lips. Finally, she sighed. "I haven't been getting much sleep lately."

Ginny blinked at her, concerned.

Don't look at me like that, Hermione thought hopelessly.

Nothing was wrong. Everything was fine. Nothing was keeping her up at night. Not the gnawing, frustrating, rip-you-hair-out knowledge that there was something she just couldn't figure out.

"You're…" Ginny started, "not sleeping well?"

No, she wasn't. Not since Friday. Not since she'd been up until four in the morning pacing back and forth in the Common Room; torn between running to the Headmaster, running to bed, or running back to the Prefect's bathroom.

Damn you Malfoy, Hermione thought bitterly. What was that blood from anyway? What was he doing in traveling robes?

She was going to figure it out. She was going to figure it out, report him, and then maybe kill him for all the trouble.

"Are you alright?"

Hermione looked up, "Pardon?"

"It's just… it's only ten after nine and you already look like you're about to hex something."

This wasn't working. "Look, Gin, I'll be down in a sec, okay?"

"Well I'm starving."

"Go on then!"

"Merlin, you don't need to bite my head off!"

As soon Hermione heard the door close, she vented the rest of her frustration into her pillow. Oh God she was loosing her mind.

Gathering her things- books, bag, wand, a letter to her parents about possible summer plans she had meant to mail before but had never got the chance- Hermione took the every changing staircases down to the Great Hall.

She wasn't surprised at the sight that greeted her as she walked through the double doors. There were few students left at that point, the fear of Voldemort or the Headmaster's failing sanity finally caused some parents to force their children to leave school. The Slytherins were the fewest actually, Hermione noted.

Looking around to the table, she noticed that Pansy was missing. So was Blaise… and Malfoy. His cronies Crabbe and Goyle were stilling alone, looking stupidly lost without their leader.

Malfoy.

Hermione whorled her bottom lit against her teeth.

She hadn't seen him since that Friday night in the Prefect's bathroom. Faintly, as if the memory was slowly fading, she could still see his face. Pale, contorted with acute but controlled pain. Had she done the right thing? It had plagued her the rest of the night, even as she lay under her heavy Gryffindor comforter.

What had not reporting him actually done? What was he doing now that her actions had freed him to do so?

He should have been under House watch, not gallivanting off somewhere.

Besides, he was such a bastard. Why had she helped him? Ron's unwillingness to do homework flashed before her eyes, juxtaposed with Malfoy's quiet intelligence and damned Potions knowledge…. Transfiguration skill… Ancient Runes affin-

There was no mistake that he scored marks nearly as high as she did. Hermione knew this. She just didn't understand who could have time for moral debauchery and studying all in the same weekend.

Hermione reached the Gryffindor table.

It didn't surprise her that Harry wasn't there, sitting next to Ron, across from Ginny. He had been scarce of late, always sneaking off by himself. He was up to something with Dumbledore, but he still hadn't involved his best friends. That was… infuriating, and made Hermione uneasy. Without knowing where that boy was, they couldn't help him. They always helped him.

"Morning," Hermione sat down heavily next to Ginny, who was spooning a basted egg onto her plate.

"Look who's up," the other girl snipped.

Ron peered over his folded copy of the Daily Prophet at the girls. "You don't have class until this afternoon."

"I know," Hermione pulled a bowl of porridge. "I just want to get an early start. It's so beautiful out."

Ron nodded, but he'd already stopped listening, his attention instead direction to the paper. He scoffed, and shoved the paper away from him. "Load of rubbish, the lot of it. Look, they've started outright attacking Dumbledore now! Makes me sick."

Ginny tutted. "Ron, people don't believe everything they read."

"Oh yeah?" He leaned in, "Then why are classes empty, huh? Why is only half the damn student body left by now?"

Hermione, unfortunately, had to agree. People were stupid; they took information at face value and didn't bother with common sense. The fact that most of the Hogwart's parents had pulled their students from the roster was proof they read and believed what the Profit was telling them. She watched Ron sit back in his seat, deflated.

She felt a pang of sympathy. He'd been on edge since Harry had gone off alone. She couldn't blame him, she too felt pushed to the wayside. It was unsettling to know your best friend could be in real danger and you had no power to stop it.

Hermione sipped her tea, thoughts dark despite the beautiful day. She scanned the Hall, eyes traveling over the practically empty teachers' table. Only Flitwick and Sprout were at breakfast that day. Then she settled on the Slytherin table, and her mood did not improve.

God she was itching to know what was going on. Missing Slytherin students is a suspicious thing, and Hermione could think of only two reasons why they would be absent.

A, something bad was going to happen, so their parents had yanked them home lest they be killed or maimed or gored or whatever Dark Magic usually does to people… dangle them upside own by their knickers, that sort of thing.

Or-

B, something bad was going to happen and they were involved. Like Voldemort's soldiers in training.

But Blaise of all people! He was a Prefect, and although Hermione knew he liked to throw his lot in with the rest of them, she couldn't see him as morally degenerate. They'd worked together on Prefect business, albeit she was sure it was grudgingly on his part, but he hadn't called her names or forced his pure-bloodedness upon her.

Unlike some people she knew.

Maybe his mother had just wanted to protect him.

She could see Pansy and Malfoy being in cahoots of course. Set fire to the Astronomy Tower, or maybe let loose all of Hagrid's Blast-Ended Skrewts… but serious Death Eater business?

I cut it mending something.

She could hear Malfoy's words in her head; that half-hearted explanation that explained nothing at all.

I cut it mending something. A cabinet.

Death Eater business?

Surely not.

The thought of Draco Malfoy plotting the assassination of the British Prime Minister via china hutch caused her to stifle a giggle.

But a voice in the back of her head began nagging, tugging her forward.

Ah, that little voice said, you're being quite naïve. Either quite naive or just plain stupid.

And so Hermione leaned into the table and opened her mouth, ready to ask Ron if he thought something felt… amiss that morning. Like they'd missed something along the way.

And if he was still worried about Harry.

And if they should go to the Library to study, or perhaps to Hagrid's.

But she never got to it.

CA-RACK!

It was like the sound had been suddenly muted on the telly, like some immense explosion had absorbed all the noise in the room all at once.

It took just a moment for Hermione to realize that the reason there was so sound was that she had gone partially deaf, and that she was no longer sitting at the Gryffindor table.

In the seconds it took for her to blink, something had shot out from the entrance of the Great Hall and had smashed into the room, tendrils licking down like lightening. It had upended the tables, upon which the students sat, and Hermione had been thrown sideways to the wall.

It had been so loud she felt as if cotton had been stuffed into her ears, and although there was chaos all around her she could barely hear the screaming. For a moment she simply lay on her side, chest rising up and down as she struggled not to continue hyperventilating. Somehow her school bag had got tangled in her arms, and she was crushing her books to her chest as if they might save her.

From her horizontal position she could barely see through the massive cloud of dust and rubble, and one of the overturned tables was obscuring her view. That same table had pinned a second year boy she'd seen from Hufflepuff. He wasn't moving. There was blood all over the floor.

Hermione closed her eyes as bright green and red and gold sparks shot out from every which way… people fighting, or fighting back.

"R- Ron!" She attempted to call, but her voice was barely a hissing whisper, and she choked on the thick white dust. Receiving no response Hermione sat up, trying to gather her bearings.

Disoriented and in a state of utter shock, she didn't even think of taking out her wand. The whole attack has taken them completely by surprise.

Attack.

Oh God, she thought, I'm going to be killed. They're going to find me and kill me.

Something came out of nowhere and hit the table pinning the Hufflepuff boy. The wood splintered and exploded, startling Hermione out of her stupor.

She bit down hard to keep from screaming. She tasted blood.

Immediately she flattened herself back against the ground, and now she could hear the sounds. Sounds of spells and people's names, of cries of pain and shocked screaming. Wriggling, she moved along the outer wall in a slow arm over arm kind of way, dragging her books behind her.

Time felt as if it had slowed to a crawl.

"Hermione! Hermione!" Hannah Abbot, with her wand out and raised, was motioning to her through the chaos.

"Where's Ron!"

"Just slipped out the door with Ginny. She got hit with a candlestick flying off the table; he's taking her to the Hospital Wing!"

Idiot, Hermione thought, the Hospital Wing won't help you if the whole castle's being razed to the ground.

Another explosion rocked the room, and suddenly sunlight was streaming in through the ceiling. A huge gaping hole had been blasted through the enchantment overhead. Hermione fell sideways and lost sight of Hannah, but the doors to the Great Hall were only a few feet away. If she could only reach them she could escape, go find Ron and regroup, go back and save the others… if they could.

Hermione was the first to admit she was the least athletic person she knew. Couldn't fly a broom…could barely kick a football. But at that moment all the strength she had seemed to pour into her legs as she pushed herself to stand. Just one foot in front of the other.

"Oiy!" A gruff voice called out very near to her right ear. Someone's large, rough hand had closed around her arm.

She was so close…

Instinctively Hermione twisted, swinging her knee around towards her attacker. The contact to his groin made the man choke out a painful cry and double over.

"Fucking bitch!"

She wiggled, his hand slipping.

Two more steps. Just two more.

At full tilt Hermione yanked and stumbled backwards, nearly falling but able to cross the threshold into the Entrance Hall. Her chest burned from strain, but she was free. She was out. She was safe.

Hermione could feel the spell before it hit her. The hair on her neck and arms were suddenly on end, and she knew that if her wand was in her hand she could have countered the curse. But alas, she was otherwise not so quick.

Her eyes shut tight, waiting for the blow.

Something white hot, nearly liquid, struck her right in the middle of her back, picking her up and throwing her violently forward.

Just before the spinning world sank into blackness, Hermione was expecting to land very hard upon the stone ground. Instead she fell down into warmth, into unbelievable softness that held her tight.

The rushing noise around her quieted to a dull humming.

Was that her heartbeat she heard, strong and pounding?

Perhaps she was dead already…

Hands turned her over, cradling. A low-voiced gasp stirred the hair plastered to her forehead.

Hermione didn't open her eyes. She couldn't have even if she wanted to.

Her name was said low, in perhaps a whisper.

Maybe Ron had come back to save her…

A/n- Hope you enjoy! The next chapter coming soon; please review and tell me what you think!