Hermione stood in the dreary rain, staring wearily at the once proud Hogwarts. It looked rather like a cake that had caved in, and the picture it made was so depressing, that Hermione made a low, wounded sound. The woman standing beside her, Padma, sighed and lit up a cigarette. Even with magic, the flames sputtered feebily, and the smoke puffed out of her mouth pathetically. Hermione glared silently at her companion, and Padma's lips twitched up into a smile.

"Want one?" She said tauntingly, in her warm, low, voice.

Hermione stared at her for a few long seconds before rolling her eyes and sighing.

"Fine," she said, "But if I get lung cancer, I'm suing, Patil."

Padma smirked at her as she silently held out her carton of cigs, and Hermione huffed petulantly.

"You can try, Granger," she said, finally blowing out a long, satisfying ploom of smoke, "But I come from a long line of prestigious Ravenclaw Lawyers. We'll kick your ass."

Hermione laughed, and inhaled the smoke from her cig far too fast, and for a couple of anxiety inducing minutes she struggled to draw in a single breath. Padma, who was used to this, just rolled her eyes and summoned a glass of water.

"Maybe," Hermione wheezed, once she had chugged the glass, "But at least I'd have your sister on my side, and Lavender as well."

Padma pursed her lips, and her eyes twinkled.

"I'd like to say you're wrong, but she would betray me like that. And you two don't even like each other!"

Hermione shrugged uncomfortably.

"That's kind of my fault," she said, and Padma only shook her head.

"Well," she said, stubbing her cigarette out on the crumbling walkway, "let's get on with this."