Braving the Past

Chapter 64: A Professor's Last Request

The plans were laid out on the floor of the drawing room. Professor McGonagall had claimed the long dining table they'd previously been on a few short hours ago, thus their parchment and crude maps were sent where they wouldn't get ruined by food grease or sticky crumbs.

Hermione sat cross legged on the ground in front of the widespread papers, eyes flitting across each scribble and roughly drawn outline. Tom stood across from her looking down, arms crossed with a knuckle pressed against his lips in thought.

The group had spent the entirety of the previous day deep in strategy and planning, going over possibilities, pitfalls, what they had on their side versus what would be actively working against them. No matter how they viewed it, this would be their most difficult victory yet.

Tom carefully made his way around their outlines and squatted down next to her.

"If there was just -" Hermione began.

"But there's not," Tom interrupted. "You know there's not."

Hermione huffed, knowing he was right but feeling resentful about it anyway.

"There's nothing else to be gained from staring at these pieces of parchment," he said. "We've planned everything we possibly can. Best now to let your mind rest to be ready for what's to come tomorrow."

Hermione closed her eyes and dropped her head in her hands. She took a deep breath, attempting to force all the thoughts out of her mind that said they were walking into a bloodbath. The thoughts came anyway.

She looked up at Tom, taking in the lines of his face while his eyes darted over the plans before them. The sharp angles she had so despised upon first meeting him now made her cheeks warm. His dark eyes were still perceptive and keen, full of a cleverness that now brought a sense of pride to her chest rather than fear.

He looked away from the papers to meet her gaze head on. Even after all this time, she couldn't say for sure whether his eyes were black or just a very dark brown.

"Do you think we have any chance of winning this?" she asked him. "Tell me honestly."

His eyes darted away from hers to focus on the hands that rested between his knees. Hermione held her breath, afraid of what he might say yet wishing he would be brave enough to say it all the same.

He took a breath, mouth opening.

"I'm supposed to tell everyone it's time for dinner," Luna's voice announced.

Both Hermione and Tom turned to look at her standing in the doorway.

"Erm, I'm not hungry," Hermione admitted. "Sorry, Luna."

Luna cocked her head, mouth twisting in thought. "Harry said the same thing. I know you probably don't feel like eating, but she's been working on it all day. Don't you think it would be hurtful if no one showed up?"

Guilt warred with the nerves swirling in her stomach. Hermione looked at Tom, who shrugged a shoulder.

"It could be a good distraction," he offered.

Hermione sighed. "Alright."

Luna's mouth curved into a soft, proud smile, and she bounced off, blonde hair blowing behind her.

Tom helped Hermione up, and they followed their noses to the banquet hall. The smells wafting through the corridors reminded Hermione of simpler times, enjoying meals at Hogwarts when she'd mainly been concerned over passing exams, fighting for house-elf rights, and keeping her two best friends out of serious trouble.

"It almost reminds me of Hogwarts," Tom said, voicing her thoughts.

Eyebrows scrunching, Hermione picked up her pace, curious at what they would find. They entered the banquet hall and a small gasp escaped her lips.