Anyone But Me

Chapter Fifty-Six

With no end in sight to Harry's compulsive complex on catching her hero, Hermione was forced to admit there was no way to out smart him and two crafty house elves. Between the three of them she was pretty sure Draco was under near twenty-four hour monitoring and any hope of sneaking past them sans a costly invisibility cloak was pointless. While it was true that Draco could undeniably afford one, managing to get it through the upped security measures in the castle was a whole different task. Filch wasn't the smartest in the bunch but to assume he wouldn't spot something that suspicious was idiotic.

Her use of the Disillusionment Charm was shoddy at best... Doing the spell on herself was much harder than on an external target and she never knew when the peculiar feeling that accompanied the magic would fade and her form would suddenly pop back into perception. The absolute last thing she needed was to lose concentration and get caught by a house elf. Or even worse, Harry hiding underneath his cloak.

No... It was much too risky a venture to try and undertake now...

Draco's clipped responses the few times she had reached out to check on him spoke to the fact that he understood the stakes. The manner in which he stalked around, jaw clenched tight and deliberately avoided even looking in her direction, told her how hard he was working to keep himself in check. His perpetually bruised eyes continued to clue her in on his lack of self-care.

As the hours slowly ticked by and turned into days she watched the manic gleam start to creep back into his eye. Telltale signs of paranoia cracked at his carefully crafted exterior, making him randomly check over his shoulder to survey his surroundings and fidget through most of their classes together. On edge, he made sure to be one of the first students through the door upon dismissal. His merry little band following quickly behind, seemingly oblivious to his inner turmoil.

It pained her to know that she was a part of the cause. Leaving her to deal with an unquenchable desperation to find any way to succeed in her mission to assist him. Even if she couldn't directly speak with him... Muchless offer the appropriate level of support.

Again and again the thought to go to someone berated her. Reminding her that if anything happened, it would be her fault for being too afraid of the consequences to act. The possibility of the end to a woman's life hinging on her choice of continued cowardice or self-sacrificing bravery should have been an easy one but ultimately wasn't. Not when the woman in question had shown nothing but support for the regime the rest of her family had openly bolstered.

But what if it was an act like with her son? What if she was truly in danger and this was not some sick game being played for Voldermort to get whatever he wanted out of Draco? What if? What if? What if?

All of the unknowns were important factors in determining if it was worth losing everything for the witch. She knew they shouldn't be. When doing what was right, none of it should have mattered, but they were. So she was stuck, silently hating herself and yet again trying to make sense of the unbelievable situation she had quite literally stumbled herself into.

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Late one night she found herself wandering after rounds, intent on making sure Harry was fast asleep before going anywhere near the dorms. She could not handle another late night filled with theories on what Draco was up to and how they could stop him. Being trapped with her thoughts in the chilly dark corridors was preferable to the ramblings that were becoming more and more absurd with each passing conversation.

Well past the mandatory hours of internal self-flagellation for the night, she felt numb as she let her feet carry her without thought of a destination. There was no way to keep track of the time after being relieved of her duties at midnight, so all that she could do was guess at how long she had roamed before she stilled in front of a door.

When she looked around and orientated herself she realized that it was the same door she had quickly passed by the last two nights. Her subconscious mind pushing her to do the right thing just as incessantly as her conscious one. She shook her head and tried to deny the decision that everything in her knew she should make.

A tremor in her hand made her fingers twitch as she took a step back, fighting to not rap on the ancient wood and set the unthinkable into motion . Her whole entire being screamed out to knock and end her torment but she took another deliberate step back. The icy trickle of fear in her veins chased away the ache and warned of why she had avoided making this choice to begin with.

Harry... Reckless... Draco... Dangerous... Ginny... Damnation... Ron... Suffering... Draco... Unsafe... Draco... Death...

Scrambling under the weight, she turned to run away...

And almost ran directly into the owner of the door, who quickly reached out and grabbed her arm before exclaiming. "Why! I never... Hermione Granger?!"

She looked up into the shadowed face of Professor McGonagall and let out a shuddered breath. Feeling faint, she grasped the arm that the elder witch held her with for support. Her voice quivered, barely making it above a whisper. "I... I need..."

"What is it? Are you hurt?" McGonagall asked her. Quickly evaluating her physical condition, the woman's eyes only widened once settling on hers. It was apparent by the reaction that Hermione's frantic inward mayhem had finally broken free.

"No." Her answer was the truth, at least in the sense that the teacher was seeking.

Realizing she was in no shape to be interrogated in the hallway, McGonagall gently guided her forward and opened the door. Coaxing her into the small antechamber that served as the woman's office. It was cozy and reminded her vaguely of the Gryffindor common room.

Taking slow deep breaths in an attempt to keep her world from spinning, Hermione followed dutifully and sat in the highback chair that she was brought to. Next to the low fire it offered a more informal feeling to her startling late night appearance than the conventionally used hard wooden chairs that were situated in front of the deliberately authoritative looking desk. Her eyes ran over some of the more personal items she had never given much notice to the other times she had needed to visit.

There were no photographs, wizarding or otherwise, but the well loved things could be found sporadically on the carefully organized bookshelves that framed the fireplace. A vase with dried flowers. A small handcrafted tabby cat figurine. A tiffany style antique mantle clock. A small section of classic muggle literature. Each object a testament and story to the hidden nostalgic side of the usually severe Head of House.

And none of it was able to distract her for long enough to gain control... Her gaze was desperate as she shifted quickly around the room, finally the older witch knelt and grabbed her chin forcing her look her in the eye before asking. "Are you absolutely certain that you have not been hurt, Miss Granger?"

"No... I mean, yes! I am certain." She stammered.

"And you are sure no one else has been either?"

"No else is hurt." She verified. Thankful when the tight grip on her chin was lifted but the witch didn't look away. Giving her the focal point she needed to continue her slow uneasy breathing.

"Then what is it that you need?"

Hermione took one last breath before looking down at the ground in defeat and admitting what she had known almost two weeks ago...

"I need to... I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore..."

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Sooooo... What do you think? Is our girl going to actually go through with it and admit everything to Dumbldore? You know the drill! Let me know what you think down below!

Hope everyone is having an amazing day/night!

As always...

Much love,

SlytherclawLuv