Written for The Houses Competition
Hufflepuff, Year 1- Drabble
WC: 745
Prompt: [Theme] A race; Additional: A sad occasion/moment/emotion
AN: Slightly OOC Hermione and Neville. This is my own version of events, so it's not technically canon compliant but I don't think it's far off enough to be an AU. This is your official heads up :)
Hermione knelt on the floor of the Great Hall, trying not to intrude on the Weasley's grief as they mourned the loss of Fred. She quietly opened her ever-present beaded bag, thanking Merlin she'd brought it with them from Shell Cottage, and slipped Ron some tissues.
Edging a bit farther from the mourning family, Hermione saw Neville slip through the door with yet another body - and there had been so many bodies - thrown over his shoulder. When he'd placed the girl gently on the table, Hermione waved him over. She hadn't seen Harry since he disappeared to watch Snape's memories, and she hoped that Neville had spoken to him or at least seen him somewhere.
"Hey, Hermione," Neville murmured, wiping the sweat from his brow. "How are the Weasleys holding up?"
Hermione looked over her shoulder at her adoptive family, and Neville's gaze followed hers to where the family members sat in various stages of grief.
"Right…" he muttered, tugging at his collar. "I was, um… doing some recovery work… and I ran into Harry-"
"Harry?" Hermione whispered forcefully. "When did you see him? Did you talk to him?" She impatiently started digging through her bag for the Marauders' Map as she waited for Neville's answer.
"I spoke to him not five minutes ago," Neville said slowly. "I was just outside the Entrance Hall, and he said something about a snake-"
Hermione cut him off. "Did he say what he was doing? Was he headed for the Forest? Please tell me he's not leaving us."
Neville sighed. "He was wearing an invisibility cloak. Nearly gave me heart failure when he started talking out of thin air. He said he was going to be out of sight for a while, but he swore he wasn't going to hand himself over. Anyway, he said you'd be able to explain about the snake-"
Hermione, frantically searching the map for Harry's dot, jabbed her finger into the parchment. "No!" she cried as she saw the dot move slowly toward the Forbidden Forest. Without thinking, she took off at a sprint.
Hermione thought she vaguely heard Neville calling after her, but every sound seemed to be filtering through a thick layer of glass. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion except for her heart, which beat a frantic tattoo in her chest as she flew down the crumbling hallway.
Very quickly, Hermione cursed her decision to stay indoors - it was the fastest route to the Forest, but until she got outside she wouldn't be able to scream at Harry. And all she wanted to do right now was scream at the top of her lungs, demanding that he come back to her, promising that they would win this fight together.
Her shoes were filled with cement as she raced through the corridors, trying to catch Harry's dot as it grew ever closer to the Forbidden Forest and the boundary of the map. Hermione stumbled over something - no, someone, she thought obliquely - as she fell sprawled across the floor and the map went flying. She snatched it up, ignoring the smudges of blood her scraped palm left on the edge of the parchment as she hurtled forward. Her lips cracked, her lungs burned, her muscles ached; still she raced on.
At last, Hermione slammed into a splintered door, the last thing separating her from Harry. She flung it open just in time to see the dot labeled "Harry Potter" reach the treeline.
"Harry!" she screeched. To her dismay, her voice came out as a hoarse cry. She sprinted forward, still trying to scream his name as she rushed toward his invisible presence.
She stumbled again, only to be caught by a pair of strong arms. "Harry!" she wailed one last time. Hermione swore that she saw just a ripple along the treeline, like the swishing of an invisibility cloak as the wearer turned to look back at the castle. One swish, and nothing more.
Hermione collapsed sobbing into a warm chest. "We can't stop him, Hermione," Neville whispered. "He going to do what he thinks he has to. But it doesn't matter either way. We're going to win this thing, for him and everyone else," he promised.
But Hermione no longer cared about winning the battle or even the damn war. She had already lost the most important fight - a race against time itself. But it was impossible to win a race when you didn't know it had even begun.