.18.

Hermione's fall from grace was swift and shocking. The entire school – hundreds of pupils and faculty members – were utterly stunned by the news of her actions. The board of governors and the Department of Magical Education had unanimously voted for her expulsion. None of them were able to condone her near fatal attack on a fellow student, particularly not on one who was a guest in their world.

There were a few students who claimed that Hermione wasn't in her right mind at the time of the attack, that she was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress due to what she went through during the war. However, those voices were shut down swiftly and speedily. Far too many people were prepared to believe only the worst.

Despite being expelled, Hermione was still living at Hogwarts, sleeping in her dormitory, eating her meals in the Great Hall. She even had the nerve to attend all her classes, swanning around as though nothing was wrong. It never seemed to occur to her that she would not be allowed to take her final exams, would never be allowed to graduate, no matter what. For someone who took her schoolwork and academics so seriously, it would no doubt be a bitter blow when it eventually sank in. It never occurred to her that she was now a pariah.

Whenever Hermione wasn't attending lessons, Tamlin was by her side. In fact, he was even cutting his own lessons in order to act as her bodyguard, no doubt in order to protect her from Rhysand's fury, as well as from the throngs of hostile students. Rhysand was still furious about Hermione's attack on Feyre, and was aching for vengeance. The only thing that was stopping him from going through Tamlin to get to her was the fact that the school nurse had said that Feyre was likely to wake up any day now.

That was the only thought that was keeping him going at the moment… Having Feyre awake again, and talking to him… Being able to hold her in his arms again… Seeing her smile… Hear her laugh… Hermione's attack couldn't leave any lingering brain damage or other problems. It just couldn't. He would accept no other alternative.

But for the moment, Rhysand was still visiting Feyre in the school's hospital wing every chance he got between classes and homework. If Rhys had his way, he would spend all day sitting by his mate's bed, but the strict nurse refused to let him, saying that she was being well looked after. His instincts were roaring at him not to listen to her, but a small, overtly rational part of his brain, thought the nurse might actually be telling the truth. He just didn't want to listen to her. At the same time, though, there was almost always someone sitting by Feyre's bed. Mor, Lucien, Elide, Petrah, even Harry and Ginny. It was a real show of community spirit. Feyre's sister Elain was one of her most constant visitors.

Nesta, on the other hand, flat out refused to visit her youngest sister. When he remembered to ask Elain about it, she only told him that Nesta had said that it reminded her too much of her memories of their mother's death, and that she no longer consider either Feyre or herself her sisters.

Rhys knew that Nesta had not always been the best sister to Elain and Feyre, but he had not thought that she would be so cruel to gentle young Elain. Not when Elain currently needed her so much. For that comment alone, Rhys wanted to strangle Nesta, whom he had long since disliked. No one deserved to be treated so cruelly – especially not by their own sister.

Even through the fog of shock and fury, Rhys was still stunned to realise that whenever he ran into Elain in the hospital wing, Lucien was with her more often than not. Despite wanting to find out what was going on between the two of them, Rhys was well aware that he couldn't. Elain was his favourite sister in law, and she was far too sweet and gentle to be able to stand up to the questions that he was currently likely to throw her way. Until Feyre actually woke up, at least, Rhys knew that he was more than likely going to be far too harsh when questioning anybody. Even those closest to him.

But from what little he was able to tell, it looked like Lucien had actually managed to become good friends with Elain. Which was a surprise in itself, as Rhys had been under the impression that Elain had wanted nothing to do with Lucien, mating bond or no, damned. In a way, Rhys was relieved to see the kindness and consideration with which Lucien treated Elain. He would have hated having to chastise Lucien for poor treatment of her. He would truly have hated it, despite knowing that Lucien could take it, him having lived so long under the same roof as Tamlin.

At the same time, though, Rhys was aware of his spymaster's feelings for Elain, and he saw the jealousy in Azriel's eyes when he spotted the two of them together. Rhys had always been aware that his most talented spymaster harboured romantic feelings for Elain, but at the same time he knew that Elain had only ever seen Azriel as nothing more than a friend. Of course Rhys wanted all of his brothers to find the same happiness that he had found with Feyre, but had always known that Azriel's pursuit of Elain would come to nothing. Just as Azriel's romantic interest in Mor had eventually come to nothing, after five hundred years of pining after her. But for the moment it looked like Azriel would remain unlucky in love, that his turkey would be forever cold. He just had to hope against hope that both Azriel and Lucien would still be able to work together peacefully in the future. Otherwise it would cause a whole lot of headaches that Rhys neither wanted nor needed. A situation like this was definitely going to affect those closest to him for a long time to come. Right now, what mattered was how they were going to face it.

Sighing heavily, Rhys wondered how to gently broach the subject with Elain. She was a sweet, gentle, sheltered girl, with little idea of the outside world, despite the war. Knowing Elain, though, she would probably be far too embarrassed to tell to him to not to talk about it or to leave her alone. Elain always was far too shy to ever talk to him about her personal relationships.

He wondered if she'd ever mentioned it to Feyre. He assumed so, as the two younger sisters were much closer to each other than they were to their eldest sister. It was a shame, he thought, that Nesta had cut herself out of their lives so completely. He knew that Nesta was still suffering from the war, but shutting her family out wasn't the answer. Nesta needed her younger sisters now, more than ever before. He wondered if Nesta had never known of the love that her sisters were so willing to freely offer her.

Sometimes thinking too much was a curse, Rhys thought, as he finally left the hospital wing that night, long past midnight. Rhys knew he could have just caught a kip on one of the little old cots in the hospital wing, but he definitely preferred his own bed. He just wished that Feyre was still sharing his bed with him. It had most definitely been a long year. Rhys could not wait until Feyre woke up. Luckily, the nurse thought that it would only be another day or two. He smiled, ecstatic at just the thought having Feyre in his arms again – quite possibly by this time tomorrow.

Rounding a corner into a corridor on the seventh floor, Rhys nearly fell over some one who'd been lying on floor. "What the hell do you think you're doing, walking all over me like that?" a voice said, in a sour, bitter tone. A voice that Rhysand instantly recognised, with a growl of vicious anger and resentment. The rage that flowed through him at the sound had no beginning and no end.

"I think a better question would be, what the hell are you doing, Tamlin?" Rhys hissed as Tamlin jumped to his feet.

"It's just like you, to think you can walk all over people, isn't it?" Tamlin snarled viciously.

"If you didn't want people to step on you, then you shouldn't have been lying on the floor in the first place," Rhys said, attempting to force himself to remain calm. "What on earth were you doing there in the first place?"

"I was waiting for you to come back to the common room and then I must have fallen asleep," Tamlin admitted bitterly.

"And why did you want to see me?" Rhys said coldly. He didn't have the patience to deal with Tamlin at the moment. He was tired and wanted to get some sleep.

"You have to get Hermione's expulsion reversed. Admit the truth and tell them you framed her," Tamlin insisted, plaintively. "You do realise that you upset her badly, don't you? She's been distraught for days. Her parents will never forgive her if she isn't able to graduate with her friends, like she's meant to."

"I upset her? You do realise that she attacked my mate, and that she's still in a coma in the hospital? Surely, Tamlin, you have to know that your precious Hermione isn't as innocent as she claims to be," Rhys sneered at him. "In my opinion, she deserves everything she gets. Not to mention the fact that her parents will be even more disappointed in her when the Headmistress tells them what she did."

"Hermione has been wrongly accused and you know it Rhysand," Tamlin retorted. "She is my mate, and it is my duty to protect her for as long as we both shall live."

"Have you ever seen how mates work, Tamlin?" Rhys asked, suddenly curious. "Mates don't always turn out as unhappy as your parents were. Sometimes, the mated couple are actually happy together."

"Name one mated pair that is actually happy together," Tamlin insisted rudely. "Other than Hermione and I, of course."

"I don't know what the hell is going on between you and that Granger girl, but it sure as hell isn't love. Do you have any idea of the amount of love and adoration Rowan and I feel for Feyre and Aelin? The kindness and respect that Lucien feels for poor, young Elain? What you claim to have with that Granger girl isn't healthy. It's obsessive and unhealthy. It's beyond sick. It's degrading – for you and for her."

Tamlin merely looked perplexed, bewildered. As though he no longer understood what was going on around him.

"I don't know what you ever felt for Feyre, or what you feel for that Granger girl now, but I can promise you that it's not love. With all your talk of duty and the protection you owe your mate, it's most likely possession, ownership. A mate is supposed to be your equal in every way. A mate is supposed to be loved and cherished. But you don't want an equal, do you Tamlin? And you don't want to love or cherish anyone wither. All you want is a subservient girl who is dependent on you for ever. That's probably why your relationship with Feyre wouldn't work, not after what happened Under the Mountain. It left a hole in her that you couldn't – wouldn't – fill. Besides, Feyre has always been far too independent for your liking. It's no wonder she fell out of love with you. It's no wonder that she left you. It's no wonder that both Feyre and Lucien grew to hate you, to despise you. Neither of them can stand you, do you know that?"

Tamlin visibly flinched at that. Noticing that, Rhysand suddenly understood something. "That's why that Granger girl attacked my mate, isn't it? She was jealous of Feyre. She thought that you might leave her for Feyre. But she didn't realise that Feyre doesn't want a bar of you."

Tamlin nodded mutely, looking as though he'd been struck over the head with dumbbells.

"Now that we've got that sorted out, I'd actually like to get some sleep tonight," Rhysand grumbled vehemently and stormed off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

The next day, Rhysand was struggling to keep his eyes open thanks to not falling asleep until dawn, making all the professors glare at him in irritation. His friends and classmates just looked at him in confusion, not knowing about the argument with Tamlin. Rhys just shrugged at them, not wanting to get into it with them at the moment.

Halfway through the last class of the morning, a prefect entered the class, slipped Rhys a note and then left, ignoring the professor's heated glare. The second Rhys read the note; he instantly jumped up and ran out of the room. Everyone stared after him in amazement.

The second Rhys entered the hospital wing, he skidded to a halt. Despite the nurse's assurances, he was still stunned to actually see Feyre sitting up and talking. Spotting him, Madam Pomfrey patted his shoulder comfortingly. "I told you that she would be fine, Rhysand. Just remember to be gentle with her, she's still recovering," Madam Pomfrey said kindly, before moving off to check on another patient.

Rhys stood still as a statue for a minute before dashing forwards to embrace Feyre. "Rhys, what happened?" Feyre sobbed into his shoulder. "The last thing I remember is being in the library with Lucien— It – it felt like I was trapped— I couldn't breathe—"

"Everything's going to be ok, Feyre," Rhys whispered softly into her hair. "I'm not going to let anyone else hurt you again. You're safe, and you're free. That's all that matters. You're going to be ok, and you're safe and free. You'll always be free. I promise you that. And I love you so damn much."

Both of them were so wrapped up in each other that they never noticed Professor Filius Flitwick lying in the next hospital bed, as still and white as death.