Scattered

Ginny was obsessed with clothes.

“That’s what Fred and George said to pack,” she panted, dashing around the room she and Hermione shared. “But what clothes? Do I need my robes? My uniform? A coat?”

“Bring a coat. Forget about your uniform.”

“What if we go someplace really warm? Then the coat’s just a bother.”

Hermione turned, wand in hand, muttered a few words, and shrank the coat in Ginny’s hand down to a doll-sized square of fabric.

Ginny gaped at her. “Hermione, I’m not supposed to—“

“Take a deep breath,” Hermione ordered her, taking the other girl by the shoulders and forcing her to stand still for a moment. “Don’t panic. But Gin, this isn’t the time to worry about Ministry rules. Now finish packing, okay?”

Ginny nodded, her mouth trembling, and moved off with a more focused air. Hermione turned back to her own packing, quickly shrinking a few bulkier items of her own. She stopped to think if there was anything she’d missed.

There on the bed, where she’d tossed it when they came in the room, was the battered copy of Hogwarts, a History that she’d been reading downstairs. Without thinking she picked it up and began to cram it inside her bag… And then she realized she wasn’t thinking straight. Shrinking books was a complicated business, something that took time and precise Arithmatic calculations. She clearly couldn’t do that now, and she was being frivolous. Now wasn’t the time for… Now wasn’t…

“Are you both done?” Ron said from the doorway, his own knapsack slung over his shoulder. He looked pale and sickly, and didn’t meet either of their eyes. Hermione nodded.

She set the book down carefully on her nightstand, fingers trailing over the cover as she moved away. She stood frozen in place, her hand still slightly outstretched, and, she realized, shaking. The house was eerily quiet, save for the noises Ginny made as she finished packing. Hermione shuddered fiercely and felt Ron’s hand on her arm. He was shaking just as hard as she was.

“Where are you?!” a voice suddenly bellowed from the kitchen, causing all three of them to gasp. “Ginny? Hermione?”

“We’re here, Bill!” Ginny shrieked, a note of pure hysteria in her voice. She hurtled towards the stairs, leaving her knapsack behind, forgotten.

Hermione picked up her friend’s bag and her own and headed out the door. Ron held out his hand, though, and took it from her. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes but he grabbed her small hand with his own larger one, holding it tightly.

“Ron,” she whispered. “It’s bad, isn’t it? This isn’t – this isn’t the usual, oh, it’s terrible, but the usual attack, we’ve been through that before. This is—“

“Worse,” he agreed.

Their bags slid to the floor and Hermione buried her face in his sweater, his arms wrapped tight around her shoulders. “At least we’re together,” he said brokenly. “I mean, we’re not, really, because Harry’s—”

“Don’t say it,” she cut him off fiercely. “He’s fine, I know he’s fine.”

“Right,” Ron agreed. “He’s not here, but, at least, you know, we’re—”

“I know, I know,” she mumbled, trying to calm her racing heart. “We’re here, not off alone somewhere. We’ll get through whatever it is.”

She eased back from him and tried to smile. So did he. Together they headed down the stairs.

Bill had his arms around Ginny, who kept crying and shaking her head, obviously arguing with him about something. To Hermione’s great surprise, the room contained one other occupant – Professor McGonagall. For some reason, the sight of her favorite teacher was not the comfort it should have been, however – seeing Minerva McGonagall here, at The Burrow, in robes that looked more suitable for traveling than for teaching, and with a knapsack of her own… The very sight sent a sinking feeling deep into the pit of her stomach, a feeling Hermione suspected wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long time.

The professor, however, hardly seemed to notice her. “Ronald? You’re – still here?” She seemed alarmed.

Ron glanced at Hermione; their eyes met and she reflected back her own confusion to him. “Yes, well,” he stumbled, “where else would I be?”

“Remus Lupin hasn’t been here?” McGonagall asked sharply.

“No, Professor,” Hermione answered.

The older woman passed a tired hand over her eyes. “Perhaps… Maybe he’s just…” she trailed off uncertainly and, with a jolt, turned to Bill and Ginny, who was still crying miserably. “I’m sorry, but we have to go.”

“I know,” Bill replied, disentangling himself from Ginny as quickly and kindly as possible. “Gin, you have to. You have to. And now. It’s dangerous even standing here talking about it. For all of us. Be a Gryffindor, Sis, one last time.”

Ron and Hermione stared.

Ginny quieted abruptly and gave her oldest brother a long, hard look. “Really?” she whispered finally.

“Yes,” he said simply.

With a deep, shuddering breath, Ginny nodded and hugged him fiercely, breaking away and reaching out her arms to Hermione, and then Ron. They hugged her in return, still in the dark but each with a nagging worry that the whole story, when they learned it, would be even worse than they could imagine.

Wordlessly, Ron handed his sister her knapsack. Ginny took it gratefully and smiled at all of them through her tears. Then she stepped back and took Professor McGonagall’s hand, and a moment later, they were both gone.

At her side, Ron took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said determinedly. “We’re ready. Let’s go.”

Bill hesitated, glancing uselessly at the clock. “That’s the thing,” he said, frustration and worry etched into his voice. “I’m – I’m only here for Hermione.”

“What?!” Ron replied disbelievingly. “I don’t know what the bloody hell’s going on, Bill, but you’re planning on just leaving me here?”

“No,” Bill told him firmly. “Of course not. It’s just that Lupin is supposed to be here… In fact, he was supposed to get here first. Maybe he just got held up but this is crazy, Hermione and I should have left already—“

“Then just take me with you.”

“That’s not what’s supposed to—“

“Damn it, Bill, I’m not letting you take Hermione anywhere without me anyhow,” Ron spat out angrily, shouldering his knapsack and grabbing Hermione’s hand in an almost painful grip. “So let’s go. Wherever it is we’re going. Now.”

They stared at each other furiously for a moment and then Bill shook himself, as if he’d just remembered there wasn’t time for arguing with his youngest brother anymore. “Fine. Fine. We’ll figure it out. There’s no time. God, I hate it when the twins are right,” he muttered cryptically. He then crossed the room swiftly and took a small figurine of a bird out of his pocket, holding it out to them. Hermione reached for it with her free hand, and then Ron did the same. There was a quick rush of air, a strange tugging sensation, and The Burrow disappeared.