Even tho' I wrote this awhile back, I realized it's the only thing PK friendly of mine (save my 100s drabbles), that isn't posted here. So, in the interest of being organized and such, I present a missing scene ficlet from the beginning of Chapter 7 of OotP...
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Hermione sat near the top of her bed. She clutched her pillow and had her knees drawn up near her chin, while casting a jealous look towards a peaceful Ginny Weasley.
How can she sleep at a time like this?
Hermione had tried, when the adults had herded them all off to bed, but she didn't get a chance to speak with Harry before being ushered into her room. Ginny collected her dressing gown and excused herself to the bathroom. Hermione paced the room, wanting desperately to run upstairs and speak with Harry, to give him some words of encouragement. But when she thought of Ron and his persistent need to tell her to leave Harry alone, her courage left her.
She sighed and slowly put on her bedclothes, all the while trying to convince herself that she'd probably only say the wrong thing anyway.
She had already put out the lamp and was under the covers by the time Ginny had returned. The last thing Hermione wanted to do was spend endless hours speculating with Ginny on the outcome of tomorrow's hearing.
Whereas Ginny only seemed to see the immediate concerns (But where will Harry go if he's thrown out of Hogwarts? What will he do if they snap his wand?), Hermione had spent many hours turning over the sinister implications and plots that conspired against Harry. Each time she tried to speak to him about it, Ron warned her against it. After the explosive greeting they both received from Harry, neither one of them was eager to provoke him again.
And so she had spent these last few days treading lightly around him. It felt unnatural not to speak openly with him like she always had in the past. When she considered broaching any potentially uncomfortable topics with Harry, Ron always seemed to intercede - confrontations that led to anxious glances and hushed debate that was all too easily seen by Harry.
She hated the distance it was putting between them.
Once she heard the soft snoring of Ginny she sat up. She tucked the covers beneath her chin, wondering if Harry had finally fallen asleep as well.
She had to do something... anything to let him know that she understood how terrified he must be right now. Something to let him know that she cared...
More than cared...
She bit her lip as an uncomfortable wave of heat washed over her face.
I'm his friend. His best friend. There's nothing wrong with me worrying about him.
Only she wasn't simply worried - she was terrified.
Terrified that rationality and common sense would not prevail; that Harry would be expelled and banned from practicing magic ever again, that Harry would be left helpless in the face of looming evil.
And terrified that she could do nothing to stop it.
She remembered briefly their second year, when she had finally discovered the presence of the basilisk. How it had rendered her petrified before she could tell Harry. She had been completely unable to help him then.
She was completely unable to help him now.
She stood, then began to pace the room quietly, hoping desperately to devise a solution. If the worst came to pass, if Harry was expelled, then she needed to be ready with some contingency plan - some brilliant solution she could enact that would save the day.
Because, when it came down to it, that was really what Hermione Granger was best at - finding ways to save Harry Potter.
Certainly Professor Dumbledore and the Order had their own ideas, their own plans, in case things did not go as smoothly as everyone hoped. However, Hermione had learned over the years that relying on others to do your thinking was never a good idea.
And so she paced and alternated between talking softly to herself and chewing her bottom lip raw. Her fingers continuously knotted in the twisted loops of her hair as the night wore on and the stars burned bright before dimming to the morning light.
He could run - she could contact Viktor and maybe see if he could get him into Durmstrang. The Ministry had no jurisdiction outside of England.
But Durmstrang was all too familiar with the dark arts, and all too dangerous to someone like Harry.
She could research similar cases, find a means of appealing a negative decision... and then she remembered how well that had worked with Buckbeak.
They had been through worse, more harrowing situations than this. Surely there had to be something she could do?
She finally collapsed back onto her bed as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. When it came down to it, she was nothing more than a 15 year old girl with no power, no resources, no solutions to offer whatsoever.
If Harry were expelled there was nothing she could do.
If Harry were expelled she may never see him again.
If Harry were expelled, he'd be as good as dead.
At half-past five in the morning Hermione Granger let out an anguished cry, then quickly did her best to stifle the choked sobs that followed, afraid she'd wake up Ginny.
**
Harry awoke at half-past five the next morning as abruptly and completely as if somebody had yelled in his ear. For a few moments he lay immobile as the prospect of the hearing filled every tiny particle of his brain, then, unable to bear it, he leapt out of bed and put on his glasses. Mrs. Weasley had laid out his freshly laundered jeans and T-shirt at the foot of his bed. Harry scrambled into them. The blank picture on the wall sniggered again.
Ron was lying sprawled on his back with his mouth wide open, fast asleep. He did not stir as Harry crossed the room, stepped out onto the landing, and closed the door softly behind him. Trying not to think of the next time he would see Ron, when they might no longer be fellow students at Hogwarts, Harry walked quietly down the stairs, past the heads of Kreacher's ancestors, and into the kitchen.
OotP hardback, pg 121, Am Ed
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She heard him creeping down the staircase through her muffled sobs. A fleeting thought that this may be one of the last times she saw him caused her breathing to hitch, and a new flood of tears to stream down her cheeks. Determined not to upset him any further, she did her best to stifle her crying and clean herself up before following him downstairs.
She grabbed her dressing gown and headed to the bathroom she shared with Ginny.
I may never see him again, and there's nothing I can do!
She could feel her chest tighten, and then it became a bit difficult to breathe.
Nothing at all... I'm no good at all...
She fell to her knees, a series of retching coughs threatening to expel the food she couldn't bring herself to eat the night before.
She leaned back, swiping the side of her mouth with the back of her hand. Tears continued to glide down her cheeks unnoticed.
After a moment she slowly stood up - her legs barely steady in supporting her weight. Leaning over the basin she splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would be enough to disguise her emotional breakdown. She also brushed her teeth (habit, stability), gave herself one last look in the mirror (absolutely dreadful!), then attempted to make her way downstairs.
She was nearly to the first floor landing when she heard them - Harry and Mr. Weasley coming up from the kitchen.
Her first instinct was to run down the stairs and clutch him tightly. She was terrified - too frightened at the dire possibilities that lay before them. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was that she wasn't smarter - wasn't more capable of helping him now. She wanted him to know that no matter what happened, that she would still stand by him - do everything she could to keep him safe.
But when she saw them, she stood frozen on the staircase, unnoticed, as the two of them walked towards the door. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't speak, she couldn't tell Harry any of these things, as she watched them walk outside.
She sank down on the steps, defeated. She crossed her arms and rested them on her knees, continuing to stare blankly at the back of the front door. The numbness slowly began to creep in.
"Well, you're certainly up early."
She hadn't heard him come up the stairs from below. It took a moment to realize he was there even after he had spoken.
"Professor?"
"Hermione," he sat beside her on the steps. "I haven't been your professor for quite some time. Please, call me Remus."
"Remus?" She tried the name tentatively.
"Well it can hardly be that distasteful," he replied lightly, noting her obvious discomfort.
"I'm sorry Professor, it just... it just doesn't feel proper to call you anything else," she apologized.
"I understand Hermione," he smiled. "Really, I do. I had the same difficulties in addressing Albus or Minerva when I returned as a professor at Hogwarts."
"And," he said slowly, "I imagine, that at the present time, you and I have more than just that in common."
She broke her intense study of the door to look at him.
"How is that professor?"
"You know, I was quite the bookworm at Hogwarts. Always the studious one in the group. James and Sirius, they were constantly up to no good - always wanting to try new and dangerous things. It became my unofficial role to keep them out of trouble you know. Professor Dumbledore even went so far as to appoint me Prefect to make the role more official."
He turned to face her.
"But sometimes Hermione... sometimes there were things that James and Sirius faced... dangerous things, that they simply had to face alone. And for all my resourcefulness, there was really nothing I could do but simply wait. Hope and wait that everything would be alright."
He smiled at her again.
"I realize, I think better than most, what you must be going through right now Hermione. You're one of his best friends, but more than that, you're also one of the cleverest witches ever, and yet there's simply nothing to be done but the waiting."
Her eyes widened as he continued.
"Rest assured that while Harry's immediate future may lie in the hands of a few bureaucrats, regardless of the outcome, he will be safe Hermione. Professor Dumbledore has more than one rabbit to pull from his sleeve, and I'd be very surprised indeed if Harry receives so much as a slap on the wrist for what happened. Despite whatever power play Cornelius Fudge is attempting here, he's no match for Dumbledore."
Hermione swallowed.
"But... but what if you're wrong?"
"And what if I'm not?"
She stared at him, unblinking. He sighed and continued.
"Even if they find him guilty, even if they break his wand and expel him from Hogwarts, then he'll be safe here. We have ways of masking our presence and use of magic. Harry will be taught and kept safe at all costs, I assure you."
Her gaze dropped to the floor and there was a long silence.
"You... you're certain Professor?" She was amazed at how small her voice sounded.
"Hermione," he leaned in a bit closer. "James and Lily were our best friends. You must know that Sirius and I would do whatever it takes to keep Harry safe, no matter what happens. Please believe that."
He withdrew a handkerchief from his tattered cloak and handed it to Hermione. She graciously accepted it and dabbed at her eyes.
"Honestly professor, you must think me rather silly to be this worried."
"Not at all. In fact, I'm surprised you weren't at breakfast with the rest of us."
She blushed.
"I... well, I couldn't... I didn't know what to say," she finished lamely.
Remus gave a soft laugh. Hermione's expression bordered on reproachful.
"I'm sorry, it's just odd to think that you of all people, wouldn't know what to say."
For the first time in days, Hermione smiled.
"Now c'mon then," he stood and offered his hand, "let's get you a small bite to eat, then back to bed I think. I'm guessing you probably haven't slept a wink."
She stood. "Do I really look that dreadful?"
"No, it isn't that. I just remembered when I was worried about James or Sirius, I could never sleep either."
He gave her a sympathetic smile, and led her down to the kitchen.
***