Chapter Seventeen

A/N: Please heed my warnings, as from here on out the chapters will be violent and dark.

Chapter 17

"Students, if I could have your attention, please. There are a few announcements to be made."

Hermione speared a piece of melon on her fork, trying her best to keep down what little food she had been able to consume. All of last night, she had tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Her mind was working over time, and her nerves were preventing her from keeping anything down. Noon would be here in a few short hours. She was scared.

Dumbledore droned on... "Professor McGonagall is feeling a bit under the weather today, so Transfiguration classes have been cancelled."

Hermione closed her eyes, nausea coursing through her gut as guilt washed over her anew.

"On a lighter note, Mr. Draco Malfoy has been accepted to apprentice under Master Emile St. Claire of the Academia of Magic in Brussels."

The blonde, looking every inch of his father, accepted the honor with an air of entitlement and arrogance. A rousing applause was issued from his housemates, a dignified nod came from his Head of House, and a few Hufflepuffs, out of politeness, rounded out the praise.

"Little ferret," Ron spat. "Thinks he's king of the castle, he does."

"You're just sore he bested you in last week's Quidditch match," Ginny piped in, snuggling closer to Harry.

The redheaded boy glared at his sister.

"'Mione, when do you and Justin have to be at the Ministry?"

"Noon, Gin. Hagrid and McGonagall were supposed to be our escorts, but it looks like Hagrid will be it."

"Are you worried?" Ginny reached over to pat her friend's arm.

"Scared more than worried," Hermione admitted, pushing her food aside.

"Dumbledore won't let anything happen," Harry said.

Hermione sighed; sweet Harry and his naïve optimism. "You're right," Hermione agreed a little too brightly. "It's just a case of nerves." She lied with practiced ease, her shoulders slumped with fatigue.

Dumbledore continued on.

Hermione made small talk, nodded and smiled when prompted, but she desired nothing more than the solitude found in her nook in the library or in her professor's chambers. Breakfast would be over soon, and for once she was thankful a class had been cancelled. She needed time alone to gather her thoughts and collect herself.

***************

Black eyes assessed the young woman, her back still and shoulders hunched forward. It would appear that her night faired much the same as his, if not worse.

"Severus, please pass the preserves."

Absently, the Potions professor reached for the serving dish and spoon, handing it to Flitwick with a slight nod of acknowledgement.

Finished speaking, Dumbledore took his seat, unfolded his napkin, and tucked into his poached egg.

With a chance to make a clean break, Hermione slung her rucksack over her shoulder and stood, pushing herself away from the table. "I'm heading to the library to revise my essay for Charms."

She did not wait for an answer, but heard Ron's murmurings of being mental and the essay being due next week. She shuffled past the house tables, Justin catching her eye with a wave as she passed. She offered him a watery smile and picked up her pace, vacating the Hall.

*******************

Her breaths were deep and panting, nausea rolling within her, its coiling burn lapping at her gut, making her nearly empty stomach queasy. Hermione rested against the stone wall, her eyes closed, body going limp, allowing the stone to support her weight.

"Dawdling in the hallway, Miss Granger? I was sure you would be halfway to the library by now."

"I am feeling ill, Professor, perhaps what Professor McGonagall has is catching?" She turned her head, eyes opening to take in the sight of the sinewy figure in black.

"Emile St. Claire was your master."

He nodded.

"My scores are better than Draco's."

Severus chuckled softly. "But your disciplinary record is abysmal."

"People will see."

"People will see the illusion and pretty lies, rather than accept the harsh reality of the truth."

"And what is the truth?"

"The coincidence of accidents."

Hermione's brow furrowed, not able to comprehend the meaning behind his words. "I need to go... to the library... Justin and I are meeting..." She fiddled with the cuff of her robe. "Dumbledore asked to speak with us before Umbridge comes." She looked up to meet his eyes.

"Professor... Never mind." Hermione looked away, choked with emotion.

"Do have a care, Miss Granger," he said, his words soft, before he turned on his heel, heading in the direction of the dungeons.

**************

Hermione glanced at the mantle piece: 11:45 A.M.

"Madame Umbridge, Mister Yaxley, do come in." The Headmaster ushered with a flourish of his hand at the two officials in his doorway.

"We were just discussing a slight change in plans. Professor McGonagall has fallen ill, so she will not be able to accompany the students. Professor Hagrid, though, shall be the students' representative at the Ministry."

"Oh, how dreadful. Do extend my sympathies and well wishes to Minerva."

The falsity of the toad's words irked Hermione more than the grating squeak in which they were delivered.

"Come along then, don't want to be late." Insincere smile painted on her bubblegum-tinted lips.

Hagrid positioned himself between Justin, who looked a bit green around the gills, and Hermione.

"Upon your return then," Dumbledore bid farewell. Dumbledore's words did little to ease Hermione's discomfort. If they were meant to reassure, the opposite effect was had. There was a finality about them that left her cold.

*****************

She smiled and nodded when required as Hagrid yammered on about finding a mate for Fang. Justin seemed appeased for the moment.

Hermione felt suffocated. She was sandwiched in between Umbridge and Hagrid, Justin sat on the other side of the gentle giant, and Yaxley brought up the rear. She was perfectly boxed in. Tension built within her muscles, her head resting against the back of her seat. As the Knight's Bus came to jerking halt, her body lurched forward, stomach lodging in her throat.

"Come along; we're here," Umbridge commanded, smoothing out invisible wrinkles from her pink dress suit.

Off the bus, Hermione saw the Ministry as it loomed in the distance, about a block away. She idly wondered if this was how the condemned felt, taking their final steps of life toward the hangman's noose.

"Ready?" Justin whispered, his voice quavering as they were flanked by Yaxley and Umbridge. She could see the hulking figure of Hagrid in her peripheral and feel Umbridge's unrelenting glare.

A whirling whiz and a quick succession of pops before she made contact with the pavement. Her body felt heavy. Something wet and slippery was oozing and pooling around her. The blood rushing in her ears silenced the din around her. Hermione's vision was becoming obscured by blackness. Adrenaline spiked in her veins once she realized the dead weight was not her own body succumbing to mortality, but Yaxley's. It was then that she screamed for all she was worth, screamed till her lungs hurt and voice was hoarse.

**************

"Poor dears," Pomfrey sniffed as she checked in on her two young wards. She drew the curtains and closed the infirmary doors. "Shock." She shook her head sadly. "Mr. Finch-Fletchley has responded well to the mild sedative, but Miss Granger refuses. She nearly panicked when I offered to help her change into a hospital gown. She, for all intents and purposes, is content to remain as is. I do not think it prudent at this time to disagree with her."

"Hagrid and Umbridge are still at the Ministry giving their depositions?"

"Yes," Sprout offered.

"A Death Eater attack in broad daylight! What is Tom planning?"

"I do not believe He orchestrated this attack, Headmaster."

"You've something to add, Severus?"

"I do not believe the students were the intended target; Yaxley was. This attack was personal."

"There is bad blood amongst Tom's ranks?"

"Headmaster! We heard..." Snape rolled his eyes as Potter and his merry band of Weasleys barged into the hospital wing.

"Messrs Potter, Weasley, Miss Weasley," Albus inclined his head, "Miss Granger and Mister Finch-Fletchley had a bit of a scare, but I assure you, physically, they are fine."

Relief flooded through the trio, the youngest Weasley brother inching toward the sick ward.

"Mister Weasley..."

He paused in his progression. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey?"

"I do not believe Miss Granger and Mister Finch-Fletchley are in any state to receive visitors at this time. Both need their rest. Perhaps tomorrow." The matron's offer appeased the redhead.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Headmaster, I believe the rest of our conversation is best had behind closed doors." He glared at the miscreants.

"Quite right. Poppy, if you will excuse us?"

"Certainly, Headmaster." Poppy turned to the Gryffindor students. "It's time for you three to shoo as well."

*******************

Snape found the warmth of the Headmaster's office stifling. "I would not say bad blood, per se, half-blood would be more apropos."

"A half-blood murdered Yaxley?" Dumbledore pondered this information. "What purpose would this serve? Even Tom knows infighting is counterproductive to his cause."

"Counterproductive though it may be, I still feel that this was a personal matter, settled by the sword so to speak."

Dumbledore waited for Snape to continue. "Would a pureblood use a Muggle firearm, or better yet, know what one was?" Snape, frustrated, paced.

"It makes no sense at all, my boy." Dumbledore seemed bothered most by this.

"And blindly following a megalomaniac makes any more sense?"

Snape stopped mid-step as pain licked up his forearm. "I am being summoned," he gritted through clenched teeth.

The Headmaster only nodded as the younger wizard left his office.

*****************

A/N: As mentioned in previous chapters, I do not condone violence as a means to an end.

A/N: Anything not of JKR is of my own imagination and creation.

A/N: Big thank you to my Beta, SLU, and to all my readers and reviewers.