"Oppugno," Hermione whispered, her quiet tone scaring both Ron and me. The tiny birds twittering above her head turned suddenly and aimed their beaks at Ron. Then, in a flash of gold, the birds flew across the room, pecking him, leaving shallow punctures in his skin. He scrambled for the door, his hands and forearms bloody as he raised them to protect his face. I stood beside Hermione with my mouth open, half of me disappointed that their relationship had come to this, and the other half horrified that she would do such a thing.
She sat down next to me and began to cry, her head in her hands. I put my arm awkwardly around her shoulders, trying to comfort her but knowing that I couldn't. "How does it feel, Harry?" she asked me, leaning on me. "How does it feel, seeing Dean with Ginny?" I open my mouth to oppose her comment. She glances up at me. "I know. I see the way you look at her. I'm your best friend." She let out a sad sigh. "How does it feel?"
I look up at the door where Ron just left, imagining Ginny and Dean in the Three Broomsticks again. "It feels like this," I tell her. Just like this.