Disclaimer: This chapter contains scenes and dialogue that have been taken directly from HPatDH, specifically from Ch. 8 (The Wedding) and Ch. 11 (Kreacher's Tale). All credit goes to JKR for doing it first.
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The sounds of revelry followed her from the dancefloor. Hermione collapsed into a chair next to Harry, who's appearance had been magicked so he blended in with the gathered mass of Weasleys. "I simply cannot dance anymore."
Harry stared off into the crowd, concentrating on no one in particular. Hermione hardly noticed, her feet had started to swell while dancing and ached terribly. She slipped her right foot from the constraints of the high heeled shoe and started to rub at the sore sole. "Ron's gone looking to find more butterbeers. It's a bit odd, I've just seen Viktor storming away from Luna's father. It looked like they'd been arguing…"
Lost to his thoughts the brooding wizard stayed silent, his thick red eyebrows furrowed while he worked through whatever plagued him. She tried for a third time to bring him back to the present. "Harry, are you okay?"
The moment the words left her mouth a large silver lynx dropped from the canopy onto the crowded dance floor. Gracefully, it padded in a tight circle right in the middle of startled party-goers. Once sure it had everyone's undivided attention, the Patronus opened its maw wide and spoke in Kingsley's deep resonant voice.
"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
Without thinking, she grabbed the tiny bag she had been secreting away supplies in for weeks, and glanced around before the inevitable chaos began. Trying to spot Ronald, which normally wasn't that hard of a feat with him being so tall and ginger but had become much more difficult with the dozens of tall red-headed wizards in attendance, she scrambled to her feet and went on the tips of her toes as if that would help her look. She and Harry, both, pulled out their wands and were ready to fight long before anyone else realized what the words meant.
And then someone screamed…
Mayhem erupted amongst the guests. Everyone began to panic, searching for their loved ones so that they could flee the danger that was on its way. Some even Dispparated on the spot, proving what the arrival of the Patronus had hinted. The protective charms around the Burrow had been broken. It was no longer safe.
"Ron!" Hermione yelled into the shuffle of wild bodies as they jostled her. "Ron, where are you?!"
Masked figures, cloaked in black started to appear in the crowd that surrounded them. The intruders threw hexes and curses as soon as they Apparated, not caring who was hit. Lupin and Tonks, simultaneously raised the wands and shouted Protego so loudly that it echoed from all sides.
Fear flowed with the blood in her veins… What if they were too late? What if she was searching for a corpse? Harry's hand wrapped around hers, so that they were not separated in the mass of hysteria, as she sobbed, "Ron! Ron!"
A streak of white light passed inches from her head just as Ron appeared at her side and took her arm in a protective grasp. He went to lead them from the tent but Hermione had no doubt that staying was a death sentence for them all. She turned on the spot and Disapparated. She knew the risks to herself and the secret lovechild inside of her, but there wasn't enough time to tell one of the boys to do it… Or where to go that wouldn't put them in even more danger.…
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Hours later, she laid on the sofa in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place, and listened to the hushed whispers of two chests rising and falling as they breathed. They had mercifully survived the nightmarish day… How they had managed to do so was still a mystery, but they had done it. And they weren't the only ones. Mr. Weasley's comforting words, spoken by a silver weasel that vanished into thin air, promised that the family was being watched but were safe and put the boys at ease enough to sleep.
Hermione, on the other hand, couldn't make her mind turn off.
The Ministry had fallen…
It was completely under The Dark Lord's control…
She would be a wanted woman by morning…
Her face would take the place of the Death Eaters' posters in Diagon Alley…
Along with her accomplices…
People had to have been hurt in the raid…
Some killed…
One of them could have been him…
She flinched, automatically shying away from the pain that specific line of thought would bring about. Or the horrific dreams that always followed if she slipped and imagined his face behind the masks of the wizards she had taken out weeks ago. Ginny had grown used to her waking up at odd hours gasping and retching... Ron and Harry, not so much.
What world was she going to end up bringing their baby into?
How was she going to protect a newborn from homicidal monsters?
Potentially, Gods Forbid, its own father?
Hermione rolled onto her side and curled around her middle. It was a desperate and futile attempt to feel like she was safeguarding the life she had been so callous with. She had continued to make stupid decisions in regards to her life, with hardly a thought for the son or daughter that continued to grow despite her absurd irresponsibility. Of course, the last had been necessary to save all four lives that occupied the room… And the chances of ill effects were miniscule in the first trimester when compared with the later months…
A muffled groan from the sleeping bag furthest from her signaled that Harry was having another nightmare. All that she could do was hope it was a regular one and not another foray into Voldemort's mind. Since the wizard refused to listen to reason. No matter how she tried to remind him that the visions could be false manipulations, like when they had been lured to save Sirius, it fell on deaf ears. Laughingly, he thought he was being clever and hiding his transgressions well, but he wasn't.
She sighed her silent frustration and hoped exhaustion would engulf her soon.
Sleeping potions were no longer an option.
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"Hermione…"
Her catnap was interrupted by Ron's concerned tone cutting into the delicious respite of nothingness. She immediately sat up and scanned her surroundings, "Wha…?"
"Harry isn't here…"
"What do you mean Harry isn't here?" Her words came out harsher than she meant them, but she was battling against a wave of dizziness from her sudden upright momentum. After a glance at the empty sleeping bag, just to confirm, the next logical question came to her sluggish mind. "Where did he go?"
"How should I know?" Ron snapped in retaliation.
"Well, did you… you know… look for him?"
"Not yet… You don't think he split, do you?"
The vulnerable reasoning for his delayed searching softened her anger at being woken up, "No. His rucksack is still in the corner."
"He coulda decided to leave it… To throw us off for a bit." Ron glared at the doorway as if he had actually watched Harry walk out and abandon them.
She took a deep calming breath as the possibility started to fester in her own mind. "How long have you sat there coming up with outrageous scenarios instead of checking on him?"
He chose not to answer and disentangled himself from his sleeping bag instead.
"Ronald Weasley! He could be having a fit somewhere…" Hermione scolded as she hurried to her feet, ignoring the second bout of vertigo. "You check the cellar and ground floor. I will go check the third and fourth."
She didn't wait for his endorsement to her haphazard plan before rushing from the room and up the stairs. "Harry?"
Her inspection became more and more frenzied as each room turned up empty. Ransacked, the destroyed rooms showed undeniable confirmation that they were not the first visitors since Dumbledore's passing. Someone had done this path before her… Someone who could have very well been waiting for The Boy Who Lived to claim his inheritance…
By the time she reached the fourth floor landing she was yelling, "Harry? Harry! Harry?!"