Hermione Granger and the Time of Troubles

Hermione allowed herself to grieve for one day and one day only. She had ended up spending all of Saturday night in the library sobbing her eyes out. George had been splendid and sat up with her the entire time until she had finally been so emotionally drained and exhausted that she had fallen asleep at the table. George had silently cleaned up and restocked the books she had thrown all over the place before gently waking her up and seeing her back to the Gryffindor Tower. He had left Hogwarts by the time she had woke up so she never had an opportunity to thank him; she just hoped he knew how grateful she was.

She had risen late Sunday afternoon anything but refreshed. It appeared that she was going to have a perpetual pit of nausea residing in her stomach and she did still have her awful headache from the night before. Besides, she had woken up every hour or so and when she had drifted off, her dreams had been plagued by images of Ron being tortured and screaming for help while she just stood to the side, watching him in terror and wanting desperately to help, but being held back by an unseen force.

Still unable to face the torment of the prying eyes of her classmates, Hermione had remained in the dormitory for the rest of the day, only rising from bed to visit the restroom a couple times. She didn't eat, she didn't talk to anyone, and she certainly didn't smile. The curtains remained snapped closed around the sanctity of her bed for the entire day, and Hermione hoped that the heavy velvet curtains muffled the sounds of her sobs. She cried several more times throughout that bleak Sunday but she did also think. She replayed the incident several times, scribbling down everything she could remember on scraps of parchment. She paged through all of the books she had in her trunk and wrote down anything she could find about Portkeys or finding lost people or anything else she felt might be useful in her pursuit to find Ron.

Normally, she would leave the task to professionals, but certainly not this one. This was way too personal. Those bastards had taken the most important thing in her life, and she'd be damned if she just sat back and let people she hardly knew handle the situation.

This was why she only allowed herself to mourn for one day. She rose early on Monday morning so she could take a long, hot shower and change into fresh clothes--she had yet to change out of her muddy, ripped skirt and jumper she had worn on Saturday. She actually spent time to neatly contain her wild hair back in a perfectly straight braid and when she examined her reflection in the mirror with her highly critical eye, she was very pleased with the results. If anyone didn't know better, they would think that nothing was bothering Hermione Granger.

Some people may be idiotic enough to suspect that Hermione Granger didn't care about what had happened to Ron since she appeared so composed. But they were of course were dead wrong. Hermione was anything but composed. She was frightened, fretful and furious, but she was also extremely determined. She was going to get Ron back. But she was going to need some help.

With N.E.W.T. classes, Hermione had her free period Monday morning which was the perfect time to begin. Now the only problem was to see if she could get some help.

Harry had told her that he would either have to work for Hagrid or Filch so as Hermione returned from breakfast, she was praying that Harry would be with Hagrid this morning. She might be able to convince the groundkeeper to let Harry off lightly so he could help her.

Mercifully, Harry was in the common room when Hermione entered the tower. She stopped short at the sight of him: he looked awful. It was evident that he hadn't slept since Saturday; he was wearing the same clothing, his hair was rumpled, face pale from exhaustion and nerves. And then there were the eyes. Harry's eyes were always a dead giveaway about how he was feeling and today wasn't any different. Hermione had seen them devoid of any spark or glow before, but for some reason, it startled her even more this time. Harry Potter thought there was no hope to rectify the situation. Then Hermione knew why he was scaring her so much; he felt there was no hope to get Ron back and also typically whenever Harry was feeling like this, Ron was there to help put things right. But now she was alone.

Hermione swallowed hard. Harry was perched on the window seat and staring bleakly outwards so he hadn't noticed arrival, which she was grateful for. The last thing Harry needed to see was her scared and worried. He needed someone calm and rational right now, and that was exactly how she was going to act.

"Good, you're here," she said briskly as she crossed over to him. Harry turned with slight surprise. "Do you have to work for Hagrid or Filch at the moment?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "Hagrid told me to get some sleep."

Hermione arched a reproachful eyebrow. "And why aren't you?" Harry didn't even bother to answer, but simply snorted with disgust and tried to swing back towards the view of Hagrid teaching some third-years. "Oh, no, you don't," Hermione ordered, "you are not going to sit around sulking all morning." She pointed a stern finger towards the boys' dormitory. "Either you are going to get some rest or you are going to help me."

"Help you?" Harry repeated, his attention now riveted to Hermione.

"Yes," Hermione informed him. "I have every intention of finding a way to get Ron back. Are you going to help me or not?"

"What do you need?" Harry asked promptly, clamoring to his feet and looking at her expectantly. Hermione was slightly relieved to see a glimmer of the old Harry dimly radiating in those emerald eyes. "Research?"

"Not yet," Hermione replied, stomach twisting slightly. If Ron had heard her refuse to do research, he would have most certainly have been clutching his heart melodramatically and stagger about the room in feigned shock. Harry would have laughed, she would have given him a stern look but bit her lip at the same time to keep from smiling, and Ron would be pleased that he had succeeded in lightening the mood. She rubbed her still aching head before continuing. "What I was thinking is to first reconstruct everything that occurred on Saturday." She pulled out the scraps of parchment she had taken notes on the previous day. "I wrote down everything I could think of, and there are a few things that don't add up."

"Like what?"

Hermione looked up at Harry. "Like how did they know it was a Hogsmeade weekend? Only the prefects and faculty knew."

Harry frowned as he thought out loud. "I got the letter almost two weeks before..."

"And they had to transport those graphorns here..." Hermione reminded him.

"And get Dumbledore to London," Harry added. "They knew."

"Yes, I've already established that," Hermione said dryly. "The million-Galleon question is: how?"

Harry started to pace. "Well, there are the obvious choices."

"Snape or Malfoy?" Hermione shook her head. "Can't you think of a novel suspect for once? How many times do I have to say it: Dumbledore trusts Snape and that should..."

"That doesn't make up for the fact that he's evil," Harry glowered. Snape had reached an entirely new level of villainy in N.E.W.T. level Potions. "How do we really know that he's not up to something."

"You could argue that for any of the teachers or students," Hermione countered. "You have no proof that Snape is a Death Eater." She held up a hand to stop Harry's interjection. "Yes, he was a Death Eater, but there is no evidence to indicate that he has returned to Voldemort." She knew she was being crosser than usual about this, but honestly. She had always told Ron...Hermione's throat closed up. So that's why she was crosser than usual about accusing Snape; it was exactly what Ron would have done.

"What about Malfoy?" Harry asked. "Just because we've been wrong before doesn't mean that he's not up to something now."

Hermione frowned as she considered. "He has been acting odd," she conceded. "That whole thing with trying to blackmail me about Ron was very strange."

Harry paused as he thought of something. "Hang on," he said slowly. "Say that again."

"That whole thing with Malfoy," Hermione repeated, "He found a gift I had given Ron and was going to show the whole school or something unless I did whatever he wanted."

"What did he want you to do?" Harry's fists were clenched, reminding her painfully of Ron's flaming temper.

"He never said," Hermione relayed. "I refused and got the book back and that was the end of it."

"Book?" Harry's anger was fading into amusement. "This whole blackmail scheme was over a bloody book?"

"That's not the point," Hermione said with slightly pink cheeks.

"What kind of book was it?" Harry pressed with a devilish grin.

"Anyway," Hermione quickly got back on track before her cheeks turned as red as a Weasley's head of hair. "Malfoy definitely wanted something from me. What if it was some information about you or Ron?"

"Perhaps about what we planned on doing in Hogsmeade?" Harry contemplated for a moment before nodding slowly. "A bit far-fetched, but it's worth a try." He glanced at his watch. "Do you know if Malfoy has class right now?"

Hermione shook her head, mind automatically flipping through the register of students' schedules to the page labeled Malfoy, Draco. "No, his course load is almost identical to mine."

"Right, hang on," Harry raced up the stairs to his dormitory and returned faster than Hermione thought was humanly possible. He had somehow managed to activate the Marauder's Map while sprinting down the circular stairwell and was frowning while scrutinizing the parchment. "He's in the library," he reported. He locked eyes with Hermione. "Shall we?"

**

The last thing Draco Malfoy expected to occur this morning was to be attacked by Harry Potter in front of a crowd of Slytherins. He was sitting at a full table, regaling them with a completely false story about how he had managed to take on a wild hippogriff that had wandered onto the grounds of his illustrious estate. Everyone was laughing when it happened, masking the noise of Harry's approach. Hermione had warned Harry on their way to the library not to act rashly, but apparently he was not heeding her advice. He had barreled into the library ahead of her, eyes roving around the room, and spotted Malfoy instantly at the back table. He instantly charged but to Hermione's surprise, he walked behind Malfoy. But then she understood why in a moment--as Harry walked rapidly and determinedly past the table of Slytherins, he reached out, grabbed Malfoy's expensive linen collar, and without slowing his stride, dragged Malfoy out his chair.

"Hullo, Malfoy, good to see you, mind if we have a word," Harry stated flatly, not waiting for an answer. Crabbe and Goyle scowled at Harry and stated to rise from their chairs, but stopped at the sight of Hermione's infamous don't-even-think-about-it glare. She sailed past the disgruntled Slytherins and followed Harry to the back of the library. For some reason, the Slytherins seemed to know that this would not be the best time to go against Harry Potter. He had now shoved Malfoy up against the bars of the Restricted Section, reminding Hermione forcibly that only two weeks ago, Malfoy had done the same thing to her. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Hermione sighed as she pulled out her wand and glanced over her shoulder to make sure those Slytherins stayed put. She couldn't have them interfering with their interrogation.

"Get your hands off of me, Potter," Malfoy sneered.

"Shut it," Harry hissed furiously. "Where is he?"

"Where is who?" Malfoy was irritatingly disinterested.

"You know who," Harry spat, slamming Malfoy again against the iron bars. Malfoy flinched slightly at the metal clang the shove had produced but he did not lose his composure.

"The Dark Lord?" he taunted with a mock concerned shake of his head. "'Fraid not, Potter. I don't exactly have a permanent address for him if you know what I mean."

Hermione quickly stepped into the line of Malfoy's vision. "Where's Ron, Malfoy?"

"The Weasel?" Malfoy smirked at her and adopted a voice usually reserved for a small, mentally-challenged child. "Does the Mudblood miss her little boyfriend?" He tilted his head towards Harry. "You do know that those two are shagging, right? I was a bit surprised; I thought you three did everything together."

"Harry," Hermione warned as Harry pushed Malfoy again. They were starting to attract attention to themselves. Harry shot a glance over his shoulder before pulling Malfoy over to a discreet, dark corner, a few feet away from the bars of the Restricted Section. Hermione didn't give Harry a chance to explode and began speaking in a low, terse, deadly serious voice. "Listen, Malfoy, we know you're up to something, and we think it has to do with what happened to Ron, so if you do know something, you better tell us."

"And just why would I want to do that," Malfoy challenged.

"Because if I find out you held out on us," Harry interjected in a low, deadly, deep voice. "I will kill you."

Hermione froze. Did those words did just come out of Harry's mouth--her Harry's mouth? This was it, this was the sign, this was clear evidence that Harry had indeed crossed the line and was now treading on dangerous ground. He had told her before how he had been unable to perform the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange at the Ministry ordeal, but there was enough sheer hatred and power shooting out of Harry's eyes that he looked capable enough to perform the Killing Curse. He looked willing to perform Unforgivable Curses on a boy who may or may not have information about the location of their best friend. Hermione couldn't imagine what Harry looked like when he went up against Voldemort or the Lestranges--this was plenty terrifying, so the thought of his face in the presence of pure evil was inconceivable.

Malfoy, however, appeared to be unfazed by Harry's threat. "You kill me?" he scoffed. He craned his neck forward and stared Harry dead in the eye. "Just try it,"

Hermione sucked in a shaky breath. This was getting way out of hand. She did not expect Harry and Malfoy to be threatening to murder each other in this conversation--they were supposed to be finding Ron. "Stop it, you two," she admonished, trying to get things back on track. But Malfoy wouldn't relinquish control.

"I told you this would happen, remember?" Malfoy drawled in a soft voice that sent shivers up and down Hermione's spine. "I told you that you picked the wrong side. and I told you who would be the first to go." His eyes wandered over to Hermione for one, contemptuous second before returning to Harry. "Either filth like Granger over there or Mudblood lovers." He paused slightly for emphasis. "And that's why they killed Weasley."

It was as though the Jelly-Legs Curse had been used on her, and Hermione had to grab one of the nearby bars for support. No, it couldn't be, no, no, no...

"You're lying," Harry insisted, a slight tremor in his voice.

"Am I?" Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "News to me." He never blinked as he stared at Harry with contempt. "Even if I did know where Weasley is, there's no hope for getting the Weasel back, Potter. He's gone."

Harry glanced over at Hermione who had by now slumped against the wall. The blood had rushed out of her face and the throbbing in her head had worsened considerably. They met eyes for a moment and their worst fears were confirmed: neither one of them knew if he was lying or not.

"Don't tell me you're surprised by this, Potter," Malfoy continued. "Do you really expect the Dark Lord to care about someone as worthless as Weasley?"

"Harry..."

"Honestly, I expect his mother won't even notice he's gone with all of the filthy children she has running around."

"Harry..."

"What's the matter, Potter? Upset you don't have a sidekick slobbering at your side anymore?"

"Harry..."

"That's all Weasley ever was to you, wasn't he..."

SMACK.

"Harry!"

Hermione was actually quite amazed that Harry had restrained himself for so long; he had certainly looked as though he was about to implode from Malfoy's comments. But for once, Hermione didn't care that one of her best friends had violated a major rule by striking another student in the face. She had been about the do the same. Malfoy's head jerked backwards and he grunted with pain. Harry went straight for the neck, but Hermione, recalling vividly what he had threatened, seized Harry around the waist and yanked as hard as she could. Harry stumbled backwards along with her, struggling wildly against her.

"Let go," Harry ordered, taking another wild swing in Malfoy's direction. "I'll kill him..." Malfoy slowly straightened up, cold blue eyes shooting icy daggers at his rival. "You want to talk about friendship, Malfoy?" Harry challenged. Since his hands were not free, he thrust his head in the direction of the shocked Slytherins who were beginning to gather around them, none of whom stepped forward to aid their classmate. "Because this lot certainly is not your friends! Your goons can hardly be called your best friend," The words were incredibly painful for Harry to get out but he somehow managed to go on. "Ron is a best mate that anyone could ever have and if you knew what he's done for me and for Hermione and for anyone else that he cares about then you would be praying that you had played nice on the train our first-year so you could learn how great he is," Malfoy was now beginning to weep, producing laughter from the Slytherins that only enraged Harry even further. He lunged again towards Malfoy.

"No," Hermione somehow managed to turn Harry around, hands now tightly gripping his wrists so he couldn't break free. Harry continued to squirm desperately, forcing Hermione to set her heels into the hardwood floor as best she could in order to hold him back. Luckily she had positioned him so his back was to Malfoy--hopefully if he couldn't see Malfoy, his temper towards the bastard would dissipate. "Harry, no, this won't bring Ron back..." she gasped hurriedly when she saw Malfoy's looming form approaching from behind. "Harry!" she warned, dropping Harry's wrists so she could grab her wand.

Harry turned but it was too late. Malfoy's fist pummeled into Harry's lower cheek and Harry hit the floor with a dull groan and thud. Malfoy practically crowed with triumph as the Boy Who Lived instinctively brought a hand to his injured cheek.

"Come on, Potter, you fight as bad as Weasley!" Malfoy knew that every time he mentioned Ron's name that it would cause a fresh surge of painful emotions, and he was milking their anguish for all it was worth. Malfoy tried to attack again as Harry clamored to his feet, seething, but Hermione made certain that that couldn't happen. Malfoy had his back to her so he never expected for a tumble of arms and legs to suddenly fling themselves onto his back, knocking him sorely off-balance. Hermione had decided that Malfoy needed to be given a good, old-fashioned Muggle-style beating so she had abandoned her wand and thrown herself onto his broad back. She wrapped her arms painfully tight around his neck, slung her legs around his torso, and yanked. This prevented Malfoy from teetering to the ground and bringing her down with him, but it also got him away from Harry so he had plenty of time to recover. Malfoy attempted to shake her off, backpedaling away from a charging Harry, but managing to concoct a plan to get Hermione off of his back. He feigned to his left and Harry was so furious that he fell for it. Malfoy then ducked to the right, twisted around and slammed his backside against the bars of the Restricted Section.

CLANG

"Oooo!" the entire crowd of students, despite the fact that most of them were Slytherins, winced reflexively as Hermione was the one who endured the full force of the blow, the back of her head smashing against the heavy metal.

If Hermione had thought that her headache from the past few days was painful, she was for once in her life dead wrong; she never knew what pain was before her head had crashed down on the unbearably solid iron. Agony exploded inside of her skull and bright, big, vivid stars shot across her vision. She had always read about dancing stars occurring whenever someone had experienced a severe blow to the head, but she had always thought it was an exaggeration. But now she knew better.

The stars had faded into a white, hot, intense mist that obscured her entire vision and she never even knew she had gone completely limp until the wind was knocked out of her as her stomach hit the floor. Throbbing, vicious, excruciating pain was racing throughout her entire head and it was all she could focus on. Well, not exactly...Ron. She wasn't unconscious, but she was fairly damn close so of course her mind instantly went to the most important person. He needed to be here, she needed him here, he never would have let this happen...

And then Hermione must have blacked out for a moment because for a few brief, disorienting moments she felt as though she was hurtling across time and space for miles and miles until she came to a screeching halt when she sensed the presence of the one person she wanted to see most in the world. Well, she couldn't exactly see him--that irritatingly painful mist was still blocking her eyesight. But that didn't really matter; it was almost as though she was Ron, she could feel the thudding of his heart, the dazed whirling of his clouded mind, the twitching of his burning muscles, his terror, his fear, his pain, his determination, his hope, his faith...

"Ron," she breathed. She was in him, inside his soul, inside his very being, but how? But that didn't matter--all that mattered was that he was here, he was back, and she intended on never letting him out of her sight ever again.

"Hermione?"

The unfamiliarity of the voice yanked Hermione backwards and all at once, she found herself once again huddled on the floor of the library, whimpering, head pulsating with pain. No, she tried to reach out again. She had been so close; he was there, somewhere...

"No, Hermione, come on, don't bloody do this to me," Harry ordered, poking her sharply in the face. She was irrationally quite angry at him for pulling her away from Ron, but that faded when she heard the tremor of desperation in his voice. "Open your eyes," he insisted before glancing over his shoulder. "Will someone go get Madame Pomfrey!"

"No," Hermione mumbled, not opening her eyes just yet and reaching out her hand. She found Harry's fingers and squeezed them lightly to reassure him that she was coherent and somewhat awake. "I'll be all right,"

"Come on, Hermione; open your eyes," Harry repeated.

But I don't want to, she thought wearily, slipping somewhat back into her stupor. She had a bloody awful headache, and she found that the best way to cure a headache was sleep. But Harry was now rather violently shaking her shoulders and she couldn't help emitting a small groan of protest.

"That's it," Harry pressed. He tightened his grip on both of her shoulders and pulled her up in a sitting position. "Up you go." Hermione groaned again, keeling over into Harry's arms as her muscles screamed in protested and her mind clouded with confusion once again.

"Ron," she whispered longingly into Harry's sleeve. As much of a comfort as Harry was, she felt so awful and confused that only Ron could make her feel better. She didn't think Harry could hear her, but he must have. He stiffened, and much to her surprise, leaned over to embrace her.

"I know," he whispered so only she could hear. "I want him here too."

Oh God, Hermione's stomach lurched again. Ron wasn't here and she somehow was going to have to learn to survive without him. She knew it could be good for her, in the practical sense and all, and she could become more self-reliant and independent and all that. But, in all honesty, it was just all, very, very wrong to have Ron missing from her life. And the fact that he had been ripped away so cruelly and abruptly was making the separation even more unbearable.

"I wish I could bring him here for you," Harry continued quietly. His voice cracked with his next statement. "And for me."

Hermione still hadn't opened her eyes but the dizziness and pain was somewhat subsiding. She still wasn't completely conscious so she without thinking reached out again, straining for a sign of Ron, hunting desperately for just a trace of his adorably insufferable presence that she had come quite unable to live without.

It wasn't as strong and definite as her initial contact had been, but she felt it nevertheless. He was scared, he was hurt, but he was alive and he wasn't giving up hope anytime soon. That was one of the many, many things Hermione loved about that prat--he was so stubborn and fiercely loyal when it came to his friends. She fully expected when they did find him, he would just be sitting there, twiddling his thumbs with impatience, and he would throw up his hands in the air and exclaim 'took you long enough!'. She held on to the faint lifeline as long as possible before drawing away on her own and she found the energy and aura she had sensed radiating off of Ron allowed her to able to open her eyes and slowly back out of Harry's embrace with a frown.

"Ron," she said again, wondering if he could perhaps hear her somehow.

"He's not here," Harry said in a low, painful voice.

"No, no, he was," Hermione revealed, turning so she could look at her best friend. "I felt him--well, he wasn't here obviously, but I felt him wherever he was, and he was alright for now--he's injured I think, but he's alive and he hasn't given up hope and that's what's best for him right now."

Harry gaped at her. "Hermione, I think we need to get your head examined,"

"You don't believe me?" Her face fell. Ron would have believed her if their roles had been reversed.

"No, it's not that," Harry rose to his feet so he could help Hermione stand. "It's that you just had a severe head injury and I don't think you're thinking straight just yet." Hermione's hand went to the back of her head and she winced when she found the large lump that was already forming on the back of her skull. "How is it?" he asked anxiously.

"I'll be fine," Hermione said pensively, not really thinking about her injury or Malfoy or the Slytherins staring at her with open shock. Her fingers continued to probe the base of her skull. "I've got to check this out,"

"Good idea," Harry agreed. He watched her carefully to make sure that she didn't stumble or pass out again as she began to make her way out of the library. Or so he thought. Hermione dropped her hand away from her head as she began walking and her stride gained more confidence and strength as she went straight towards one of the bookshelves. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

"Checking this out," Hermione replied, slowly getting to her knees. Harry, alarmed, went over to help, but she wasn't kneeling on the ground because she was no longer able to walk; she was examining the very bottom bookshelf. "This has to be some rare form of magic or something..."

"Or a concussion," Harry insisted, crouching down next to her to make eye contact. "Will you please go to the infirmary?"

"I'm fine, this is much more important, Harry, I think this could help us find..."

"Look, Hermione," Harry interrupted furiously. "I am not looking forward to having to explain to Ron why you have a Bludger sized lump on your head when he gets back, he certainly isn't going to enjoy the fact that Malfoy gave it to you, so I'm going to be enough trouble that I just let the git run get Madame Pomfrey without any retaliation, so don't make me have to add the fact that after being unconscious for several minutes, I just sat back and let you read every book in this ruddy library and not get yourself checked out!"

Hermione considered. She did have an awful headache and probably wouldn't be reading very much without having to stop to rest her eyes. The Slytherins were all still hovering around much to her annoyance. If she didn't go to the hospital wing, she would have to spend the afternoon in class, and as much as she enjoyed learning, she would rather be researching this. But if she could avoid that...

"Fine," she agreed and quickly got to her feet. She swayed slightly as a rush of dizziness nearly overpowered her but she managed to steady herself by grabbing the side of the bookcase. "Let's go,"

"Madame Pomfrey will be here in a minute," Harry told her.

"Right," Hermione knelt down once again.

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded.

"Checking these books out," Hermione pulled out two or three books that may be of some use and tucked them under her arm. "I can read them in the hospital wing."

"Madame Pomfrey will never let you get away with that," Harry warned, "She'll take these from you the minute you get in there..."

"Great, glad you see the light," Hermione shoved the heavy texts into Harry's unsuspecting hands. "You can bring them to me when you come visit me." She waved her hand absently towards the circulation desk. "Madame Pince isn't here, so just sign them out in the register."

Madame Pomfrey had at this point just bustled into the library and Hermione approached her slowly. Harry remained behind and she could have sworn she heard him laugh before heading over to the desk to obey Hermione's request. A small smile spread across Hermione's own face at the sound of it.

Malfoy had been dead wrong; there was definitely still hope.