Chapter Three - 'Who Pissed in Your Pumpkin Juice?'
After class on Monday, Hermione decided to try and spend a bit of time in the library in preparation for the mission on the South Corridor that night.
She had been wandering the shelves looking for a book on plastering and joining, when she remembered the Muggle Studies essay they'd been set on Wizard-Muggle interactions. It was the first essay for the class that she was going to need to do actual research for, so she reluctantly decided to abandon her reconstruction research in favour of getting her homework done. Grabbing the nearest book on construction magic off the shelf, she tucked it under her arm for later and headed over to the small Muggle Studies section of the library to peruse the shelves there.
She had just spotted a promising-sounding title and was about to close her fingers around the spine, when she heard footsteps.
"Back off Granger, I saw it first," came a distressingly familiar drawl from behind her, and her heart plummeted into her pelvis.
She turned with a scowl, plucking the book off the shelf and cradling it protectively against her chest. "No you didn't, how could you possibly have seen it first when you were behind me-?"
"I just did," Malfoy said churlishly. His thin eyebrows were drawn together, and his features looked even more angular than normal. She wondered again if he might be ill.
"Look, I'm sure there's another copy somewhere, why don't you just-"
"There isn't," said Malfoy. He feinted a grab at the book, and while she was distracted trying to dodge him, easily summoned it from her grip. "And now it's mine."
Her anger ignited, Hermione hit him with a convulsive jinx, and grabbed the book as it slipped from his spasming fingers. "You can have it when I'm done. I'll be one hour," she told him shortly, quite pleased with herself.
"I need to get that paper done now," he snapped, clenching his fists to stop his hands from convulsing.
She sneered at him. "You're not the only one with plans, Malfoy."
She attempted to make off with her prize, but he blocked her way out from between the shelves. When she looked up to meet his eyes (realising oddly that he was much taller up close than she remembered), she expected to find blazing anger, but was instead met with nothing more than mild irritation.
"Look," he said resignedly. "Let's just…share it. We both want to get it done now, so...?" he muttered.
Despite his obvious embarrassment, Hermione thought it was perhaps the most sensible thing he'd said in the entire seven years she had known him.
She considered this. "Alright. If you let me read your 'If I Were a Muggle' essay."
Malfoy looked immediately horrified. "Are you mad?" he hissed. "Absolutely not!"
As if she'd crossed a physical line as well as a verbal one, Hermione stepped back. "Oh. I'm… sorry."
There then followed an incredibly awkward silence.
"Never mind," she murmured eventually, and made to brush past him.
"Wait, no-" Malfoy raised a hand to grab her elbow, then jerked away before he could make contact, as if he'd been burned. "Don't make me say it again," he grit out.
"What?"
"Please."
Comprehension dawned, and Hermione blinked up at him.
"Please can we share," he asked, and Hermione knew the moment he spoke, she'd already lost her battle. "I really need to get this done."
She must be mad.
She took a breath. "Alright then. If we must."
He nodded curtly at her, and they emerged out from between the bookshelves. Sharing a textbook with Draco Malfoy was the very last thing she had expected to be doing that evening, but in a strange way, she was kind of excited. This was new territory. She wondered whether they'd be able to make it through so much as one chapter without hexing one another.
The first issue presented itself immediately, as they each gravitated to different tables. A silent but violent battle of wills raged for a few moments, and after a few exchanged glares and exasperated gestures, Malfoy eventually stomped over to join her at her favourite table, scowling. She couldn't help but feel smug. She imagined he was aware that he was pushing his luck already.
It felt so incredibly weird to be settling down to work with him that Hermione could barely concentrate for the first five minutes. The book, 'What Really Happened and What Muggles Were Told', was any Muggle conspiracy theorist's wet dream, but Hermione was so busy listening to Malfoy breathing, and watching his quill move over his page, and wondering if he'd also had a Herbology class that day, because he smelt faintly of fertiliser, that she couldn't enjoy it at first.
When she finally managed to redirect her thoughts, they began moving through the textbook at a formidable pace. It was conveniently organised into double-paged spreads detailing events of importance, which allowed them both to independently jot down notes without having to flip back and forth. Hermione was pretty impressed that he seemed to be able to keep up with her reading speed, and after a while, she even found herself starting to enjoy the company.
That said, she was glad they didn't talk other than the odd 'ready to move on?' and 'get your hair out of the way Granger, I can't see', because she knew that any sustained conversation would likely send this unspoken truce crumbling into ash. It was actually weirdly nice to have a silent study partner.
Even if they did pull their textbooks out once in a while, you could hardly call Ron and Harry silent.
"What are all the construction books for?" Malfoy asked suddenly, some time later. Hermione looked up to see him studying the spines of 'Tiling for Trolls' and 'Masonry for Morons', which were sticking obtrusively out of the top of her satchel. There was an amused glint in his grey eyes.
"Just some…extra reading," she said evasively, nudging her bag closed. "Got some things I want to fix." It wasn't exactly a lie.
"Mm." Malfoy rested his chin on his fist, smirking slightly. "Haven't we all."
Caught off guard, she giggled, and he smiled, not in the snide way she was used to, but openly. Genuinely. It was like his face was transformed.
She struggled not to stare, wondering exactly how a simple smile could have changed his appearance so completely, and she was frankly rather relieved when Malfoy looked back at his parchment as if he'd revealed too much.
Several minutes later, the moment forgotten, Hermione couldn't help but let out an involuntary 'oh!' of surprise when she turned the page to see the words 'Jack the Ripper', and Malfoy frowned at her.
"Sorry, I just…this is such… this is fascinating! I mean, horrible, but fascinating." She scanned the page. "When you put it all together…of course he was a wizard! I can't believe I didn't think of it before!"
There was an unintelligible expression on Malfoy's face, but she continued, undeterred. "The precise removal of intact organs…the differing eyewitness accounts… it all makes sense! Oh, how horrible. You have no idea how long Muggles have been trying to solve this one. They'll never guess the truth!"
Malfoy smirked. "Of course not. Ignorant Muggles will do whatever they can to ignore the existence of magic."
Anger flooded through Hermione's veins as sharply as if a switch had been flipped. "Is that right?!" she asked icily.
Malfoy looked nonplussed. "Oh, I didn't mean you-"
"But it doesn't matter, does it?" she hissed. "It's just ingrained into you! It doesn't matter if you don't mean me. It's still my friends. It's still my family!"
And the thought of her parents, so impossibly far away, brought a lump to her throat.
Malfoy's wide-eyed, panic-stricken gaze looked as if he would like nothing more than to evaporate on the spot. She stared him down, even as the tears bloomed hotly at her eyelashes. She was determined not to let him win. She set her shaking quill to parchment and resumed writing.
Though she refused to look up and check, she was certain that Malfoy was watching her. Steadfast, she scratched another line of notes and mumbled, "Hurry up, I want to see the next page."
Dutifully, he bent his head and went back to his essay.
Somehow, they managed to reach the end of the page without further antagonism, and then the next. After a short while had passed, Hermione decided that she had researched enough events to be able to put together a comprehensive essay, and started to pack away her belongings.
She had done a fair job of damping down her anger with him, so when she turned away to leave, Malfoy's voice came crashing down on her with the force of a tidal wave.
"I'm…sorry."
She was immediately drenched in fury, confusion and shock. And yet beneath all that, there was also a kind of quiet pleasure that unfurled in her chest like the tail of a cat. She wasn't exactly willing to extend forgiveness that easily, but she was also aware how much 'sorry' must mean, especially coming from Malfoy… to someone like her.
It took several breaths for her to straighten out her thoughts before she trusted her facial expression enough to turn around.
"I…" she struggled for a moment longer. "Thank you? But I, er… I think you've got a lot more sorrys to say."
Satisfied with the shell-shocked look on his face, she spun on her heel and left the library.
When the hour of her scheduled castle-rebuilding mission arrived, Hermione was hiding in a bath on the fifth floor with four Gryffindors, one Ravenclaw, and thirty-two Wizard's Chess pieces hell-bent on smashing the living daylights out of one another.
Over dinner, the group had decided that having all six of them travel down to the South Corridor after curfew was far too risky. After some brief brainstorming, Neville had suggested they hide nearby while curfew descended, ready to make a break for it once it was safe enough to make their escape. And then Ginny had had the brainwave of suggesting the Prefects' bathroom.
Despite Hermione's initial misgivings about this plan, hiding at the bottom of the empty swimming-pool-sized bath had ended up being so much fun that the entire group was now far more excited about their mission. And, Hermione hoped, more likely to want to do it again.
Ron had managed to sneak a Wizard's Chess set down to the bathroom, and his white pieces were now being thoroughly thrashed by Luna's black. Ginny and Hermione were experimenting with some of the taps, seeing what varieties of foam would appear from within. And Harry and Neville were levitating bubbles over to the dejected pile of broken chess pieces, who seemed to be able to overcome their wounds long enough to stab any that got too close.
When Harry eventually called out, "Okay everyone, the coast is clear, let's go," Hermione was almost sorry to leave. Thankfully, as they all snuck out of the door and down the corridor, the adrenaline came shooting back, and soon they were all grinning uncontrollably, the thrill of rule-breaking impossible to ignore.
They eventually turned onto the opening to the South Corridor, and Hermione's mouth fell open. It was easy to see why the Professors hadn't bothered to put any barriers up – the floor simply dropped away in front of them. The corridor was the only route of passage to the South Wing, which used to be home to a huge number of classrooms on several different floors of the castle, though that was before it faced the brunt of the giant attacks during the battle. Hermione had yet to see for herself, but she'd heard that it was little more than a ruin. As a result, the entire area had been declared out of bounds, and they'd been having to manage with all classes confined to the main building.
As if signifying the extent of the destruction lying ahead, the South Corridor itself was now nothing more than an empty hall that opened out onto the grounds of Hogwarts below. Most of the windows along both walls have been shattered, and a huge pile of rubble sat waiting for them at the end, blocking the way to the rest of the South Wing. Peering down into the gloom, Hermione spotted large chunks of splintered wood lying amongst shattered glass and twisted metal. The grass below had started to grow up around the debris, as if claiming it for its own.
They stood in silence for a moment. "What do we do?" asked Neville eventually.
Hermione had been asking herself the same question, and even though she hadn't quite formulated an answer, she knew that they needed to get moving, or else risk being discovered before they'd even had the chance to start rebuilding. "Let's go down onto the grass. I think it'll be easier to rebuild the floor from there," she suggested.
A quick Cushioning Charm later, and they were all landing softly onto the damp grass outside. It hit her suddenly that they were actually outside the castle boundaries after dark, and she nearly giggled at the rush of rebellion coursing through her.
"Right, so, I think if we split into a couple of teams – one to start with repairing all the windows, and the other to start attempting to fit the wooden floor back together?"
Everyone willingly obliged, and soon they were all working away, shattered glass flying upwards to fit itself into empty windowpanes, and chunks of wood rearranging themselves on the grass. It was like trying to fit an enormous puzzle together, and with the best will in the world, it was incredibly difficult to make sure all the right pieces got joined together. Thank goodness Ginny had become so adept with her Sealing Charm (no doubt down to tormenting her friends), and was rapidly managing to fix each chunk of wood to the next as they others levitated them into the air in readiness. The trickiest bits were the wooden supports beneath the floor, but with steady persistence, and some great charmwork from the team, they managed to make progress.
To Hermione's surprise and delight, little more than an hour had passed before the floor was practically back to normal. They were all back up at the entrance to the corridor again, putting the final bits back together, when they realised there was only one more piece of floorboard to replace.
In awed silence, the others watched as she levitated it back into place, and then they all raised their wands as one, hitting the entire corridor with six immense Sealing Charms that vibrated the floorboards beneath their feet.
They looked at one another excitedly, barely daring to believe they had succeeded.
Hermione slowly put a foot out onto the fresh floorboards and held her breath as she took a step forward. Insanely, miraculously, it held her weight. "We've done it!" she whispered, and then everyone was rushing forward to join her, cheering and whooping in hushed tones. The atmosphere was intoxicating, and before she knew it, she was grinning so widely she felt as if her jaw would ache the next day.
Ron surged forwards and picked her up to twirl her around, both of them laughing giddily.
This is it, she thought. This was the feeling she wanted. Among the people that meant the most to her in the world, working together to help rebuild their home, achieving something they weren't even sure was possible…
But then Ron leant in to peck a kiss onto her lips, and the feeling in her stomach popped like a balloon. Her skin felt instantly prickly and oversensitive, and she was relieved when Ron set her back down again.
Oblivious to Hermione's shudder, Ron wandered over to the end of the corridor and pointed his wand at the huge pile of rubble blocking the passageway into the destroyed wing. "Hey, why don't we clear all this? We could explore the South Corridor!"
Everyone ran to join him, still dizzy with glee. Hermione was grinning at Neville, when his expression suddenly changed to one of horror, and she whipped her head around just in time to see a blue light glimmer out from the mountain of rubble Ron had tapped with his wand. And then the rocks exploded with the force of a small bomb, taking most of the corridor with them.
Hermione felt herself blasted back from the force of the explosion, and then they were all tumbling through the floor they'd only just repaired, landing on the damp grass beneath as pieces of wood and stone came raining down over them. Luna cast a Shield Charm, holding off the worst of the deluge as Hermione stared up, powerless and in shock. And then, all of a sudden, it was over, and all six were left blinking in the cold starlight, gazing up at the inside of the corridor that looked just as broken as ever.
"Well… At least they can't say we made it worse," quipped Ginny.
"I don't understand," breathed Neville. "What was that?!"
With no more idea than the rest of them, Hermione decided to avoid the question. "I don't think we can stay here – one of the Professors is bound to have heard something. Is everyone alright?"
Soft murmurs of confirmation reached her from everyone except for Ron. She looked over at him and realised that his face was as white as a sheet. "I don't think so," he said slowly, carefully. "My leg looks…funny."
Hermione blanched. His right leg seemed to be bent the wrong way at the knee.
Harry leapt to his feet. "Right. Hermione, Luna, Ginny, Neville, you guys get back to bed before you're spotted. I'll take Ron to the hospital wing and say he fell over or something."
"If they find you and Ron together, they'll know something was up," Hermione protested. "You guys go; I'll take Ron. If you've got the Marauders' Map you should be able to get back without being caught. I'll say Ron and I went on a walk and forgot the time, or something."
Harry looked as if he wanted to argue, but remembering the time pressure, closed his mouth and nodded.
"We'll wait for you in the Common Room," he said, and with a curt nod, they all set about getting themselves back up into what was left of the corridor.
After everyone else had fled, Hermione had barely managed to get Ron further than ten metres down the hall before a lit wand rounded the corner and Professor McGonagall's shocked face appeared behind it.
"Miss Granger! Mr Weasley! Whatever are you doing out of bed? And what in Godric's name was that noise?!" She looked more frightened than Hermione had seen her in a long while, as if she was expecting something to come leaping out of the shadows any moment.
"Please, Professor, Ron's hurt, we need to get him to the hospital wing!" Hermione cried, gesturing to Ron's wobbly form. "I think we set off some kind of spell in the rubble by the South Corridor."
McGonagall conjured a stretcher out of mid-air which Ron hopped gratefully onto, his injured leg flopping grotesquely. "Take him straight to Madam Pomfrey," she ordered. "I will meet you there shortly and you will explain yourselves."
Nodding mutely, Hermione pointed her wand at the stretcher and set off for the stairs as McGonagall disappeared back the way they'd come, wand held aloft.
It was only a short walk to the hospital wing, but it seemed to take ten times longer than normal. It might have been something to do with the fact that her legs couldn't seem to stop shaking.
Once Ron had been seen to (a ghastly set of spells that prompted a lot of yelling and some rather inventive swear words), Madam Pomfrey turned her attention to Hermione. Despite numerous protestations, she fussed over the scattered cuts on her face and hands and insisted on rubbing Essence of Dittany on them. Hermione was saved from having to remove her shirt to prove she was otherwise unscathed by the appearance of Professor McGonagall, her lips pursed so tight that they had practically vanished entirely.
Ron immediately rolled over and pretended to be asleep.
"Not so fast, Mr Weasley," scolded McGonagall, and he resurfaced from the pillow wearing a sheepish expression. "I must have a word with you both. A moment, Poppy?"
Madam Pomfrey nodded obligingly and disappeared into her office.
"You will be pleased to know that the South Corridor, while still out of bounds, is at least safe for the time being," said McGonagall, conjuring a plush, high-backed chair that she settled immediately and gratefully into.
"Professor, what was that spell that went off?" Hermione asked, unable to stop herself.
McGonagall eyed her carefully as if deciding how to answer. "As I am sure you are aware, Miss Granger, many of the thousands of spells cast at the battle of Hogwarts did not meet their desired targets." She pursed her lips still further. "We have reason to believe that a number of these erroneously cast spells have become lodged in the infrastructure of the castle, awaiting detonation. It is my guess that Mr Weasley and yourself managed to run afoul of one such spell. Thank Merlin, it appears only to have been an Expulso."
Hermione's mind immediately started racing with questions, and it was all she could do to refocus enough to hear the rest of the conversation.
"Is that why it's taking so long to rebuild the castle?" asked Ron, and Hermione shot a glare at him, worried that he might end up inadvertently exposing their evening's antics.
Thankfully McGonagall didn't seem to notice, but she did cast Ron an icy look. "I assure you that we are working as quickly as we can, but yes. The threat of numerous dark curses being released with every movement does tend to slow down even the most accomplished wizard." Ron looked abashed and the headmistress cleared her throat. "We do not know what kind of dark spells await us in the worst-hit parts of the castle, and it is for this reason that so many areas have been declared strictly out-of-bounds until we have managed to identify, categorise, and eliminate these risks. What I need to know, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger, is why exactly you two came to be at the entrance of a forbidden corridor in the middle of the night?"
Hermione looked down at her hands, trying to think of a way to make 'we went for a walk' sound at all plausible.
"I was sleepwalking," blurted Ron unconvincingly.
McGonagall quirked an eyebrow.
"Yeah, and uh, Hermione was in the Common Room, and, and she saw me, and she followed me… down…"
Hermione felt like a rabbit in the headlights. She knew that nothing she could possibly say would make Ron's train wreck of an excuse any more convincing, so she remained silent.
Looking between them, McGonagall sighed. "Very well. I do believe I understand what has transpired this evening."
Hermione stared down at her clasped hands.
"Now, I am aware that as a… couple… you may, from time to time… want some privacy."
Hermione's mouth dropped open. Ron had turned an alarming shade of pink, but McGonagall barely seemed to notice. In fact, she appeared to be a little pink in the face herself. Hermione wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole
"Professor-"
"I am not finished, Miss Granger." She cleared her throat. "I understand that our school rules may feel… restrictive after the year you've had, but while you live within the castle's walls, you will abide by them. I must ask that on any future occasions wherein you find yourselves wishing for a, ah, secluded moment" - all three blushed even harder - "…you are not to seek it after curfew, or in areas of the castle that have been declared out-of-bounds. Do you understand?"
The ground remained oblivious to Hermione's silent plea. "Yes, Professor," she and Ron said meekly.
McGonagall gave a curt nod, clearly just as relieved as them to put an end to that particular conversation. "Very well then. Now, I must take fifty points from Gryffindor – don't look at me like that Mr Weasley, you of all people should be aware that breaking curfew carries a price. But now that unpleasantness is over, I wish you a speedy recovery. And Miss Granger, to bed with you. I imagine Professor Vector would prefer you well-rested for Arithmancy tomorrow."
Hermione nodded and watched as the older witch swept out of the hospital wing. "I'll come and see you tomorrow?" she offered Ron, and he smiled. There was an expectant look on his face that told her he was hoping for a kiss, but when she leant in, he smelt of sweat and dirt and blood, so she redirected at the last minute to press her lips to his temple. She doubted Ron could even have had time to open his eyes again before she was on her way back to the Gryffindor tower, heart fluttering in her chest.
Upon arrival through the portrait hole, she was immediately accosted by Harry, Ginny, and Neville, clamouring for news of Ron.
"He's fine, he's fine, don't worry. Madam Pomfrey sorted him out in about 30 seconds," she said, and they all sighed with relief. "He needs some time to recover still, but I think he'll be discharged in a day or two if he keeps on Madam Pomfrey's good side and stops swearing when she goes anywhere near his knee. It's a good thing McGonagall didn't hear some of the things he was coming out with."
"McGonagall was there?!" cried Neville.
"She caught us on our way up to the hospital wing," Hermione explained. "She was more worried about the corridor than Ron to be honest."
"What did you tell her? You didn't mention the rebuilding effort, did you?" asks Ginny.
"Of course not!" Hermione cried instantly. "She, well… Ron said he was sleepwalking, but it was a rubbish lie, so she didn't believe him for a second. She thought we'd been out for a…um, for a different reason."
Harry, Ginny, and Neville looked at her expectantly.
"Well, ah, she seemed to think that Ron and I had, er…snuck off. Together. For, um… 'privacy'."
There was a shocked silence, and then all three of them began to roar with laughter.
Despite her mortification, Hermione couldn't quite stop herself grinning. "I've never seen McGonagall look so embarrassed… She said that if we wanted to find any more, er, 'secluded moments'" - Ginny cackled delightedly - "we'd need to do it before curfew."
"Nice romantic date, that," chuckled Harry. "Meeting up for a quick snog in a corridor with no floor."
"Must have been one hell of a snog to have caused an explosion like that," smirked Neville.
"Oh, I forgot to mention! McGonagall knew what the explosion was!" Hermione burst out, and the others sobered up, smiles fading as she explained what the Headmistress had told her.
"So they're everywhere? All over the castle?" asked Ginny uncertainly.
"Everywhere that's not been fixed by the Professors," answered Hermione. "It seems that the rebuilding is going to be more dangerous than I realised, so we're going to have to be really careful-"
"Wait, Hermione," said Harry softly. "You mean you're planning to try again?"
She stared at him, taken aback. "Well, of course!"
He exchanged glances with Ginny and Neville. "It's just, well, we thought that after tonight… with the corridor collapsing, and Ron breaking his leg, and getting caught, and especially now, finding out that there's all sorts of curses around the castle… We thought, you know… that we'd probably… not?"
Hermione clenched her fists as the words sank in, willing herself not to get upset. Disappointment and hurt welled up in her chest. As far as she was concerned, the curses around the castle were just another reason why it was so important to make things safe again. What if some unsuspecting first year found themselves out-of-bounds (just as she and the boys often had all those years ago) and wandered across a Confringo? Hogwarts was unusual, and confusing, and bizarre, but it shouldn't be unsafe. Well, with the exception of the odd three-headed dog, perhaps.
All their efforts that night had been going well until the spell was triggered. Their brief success meant that they could help contribute to the rebuilding effort. She would just need to research latent spells and work out how to neutralise them first. If anything, the failure had only made her more determined to try again. Perhaps she should try and start small… maybe repairing some of the windows down on the ground floor…?
"Hermione?"
She looked up suddenly, realising that she'd been lost in her own thoughts. She cleared her throat. "So that's it, then? You're giving up?" she asked bluntly.
Harry looked pained. "I'm really sorry, but… yes. I don't think it's our place to meddle, and I just… I think maybe I just want a normal year, for once."
Betrayal seared through her chest. "I see. Never mind," she muttered coldly, and made to brush past them.
"Are you really going to keep trying? After what happened to Ron tonight?" Ginny asked, horrified.
"Look, you don't have to do it with me," Hermione sighed, trying to keep ahold of her temper. "I know I can make a difference, and I'm not just going to sit back and watch areas of my home crumble and rot because it takes too long to be fixed! This is important to me."
She took a few more steps towards the dormitory stairs and then stopped. She knew she should bite her tongue, but the hurt in her stomach was billowing up into her throat, a bitter cloud of black smoke. "And honestly?" she said, turning back to face them. "I can't believe you won't do so much as try. What happens when a first year goes exploring and gets themselves blown to pieces because no one's been able to deactivate the curses from the war? Why should I have to be reminded of how much I'm hated by the dark side every time I go to Muggle Studies class because no one's had time to clean up the Artifact Room? It's not fair!" There were tears in her eyes now. "So I'm going to keep trying, whether you're with me or not. Goodnight!"
And she flung herself up the steps and into her bed before anyone could come after her. It was only once she was alone that she realised how shaken up she felt, her mind as raw and bruised as if the night's events had pummelled her into compliancy. Shivering with adrenaline, she burrowed into the covers and tried desperately to sleep.
Hermione had expected that Ron would take her side when she told him all about it in the hospital wing the next day, but instead he froze half-way through a mouthful of cauldron cake and directed his uncertain gaze towards the duvet.
"Oh, don't tell me you're on their side!" Hermione cried in dismay.
Ron delayed having to answer by chewing deliberately for a while. "I don't know about sides, Hermione, but er… I mean, I did break my leg…"
Hermione realised, quite suddenly and heavily, that she didn't have the strength to fight with him.
"Okay," she said. "Okay." And she stood up.
"It's just… It's clearly not safe, is it? And if McGonagall catches us again we'll be in real trouble, right?"
"It's fine Ron," she said firmly, taking a breath to steady herself. "It's really fine. I'll see you tomorrow."
She wished she didn't feel quite so betrayed, but Ron was her last hope to have someone on her side about all this. A sense of abandonment ached densely in her stomach. Rebuilding a castle full of leftover curses was going to be dangerous, and now she was on her own. She wasn't angry with Ron, not really, but she was hurt.
And it hurt even more that he didn't seem to notice.
She left the hospital wing, but halfway to the Common Room, she noticed Ginny in the corridor up ahead. If they bumped into one another, she would want to talk about last night, and Hermione didn't think she had her thoughts settled enough for that yet. So even though the library was due to close in less than an hour, she turned abruptly and headed there at once.
She sequestered herself into a booth in the corner to minimise the chances of anyone passing by and stopping to talk. Pulling herself out of the loneliness that was threatening to descend, she unearthed some fresh parchment and attempted to get started on her latest Charms assignment. But barely five minutes were able to pass before something (or rather, someone) jerked her out of her self-imposed isolation.
"Sorry," said that someone.
Hermione whirled around and looked up incredulously into the anxious face of Draco Malfoy, who was clearly trying to school his expression into one of indifference. "What?" she snapped, unwilling and unable to disguise her annoyance.
He flushed. "I said sorry."
"What on earth for?"
"You said I have a lot of sorrys to say, didn't you? So that's what I'm doing," he answered stiffly, looking down at his feet.
Hermione blinked. His voice was prickly, as if annoyed that she hadn't immediately fallen at his feet in forgiveness. Unluckily for him, she was already too irritated from the events of the last twenty-four hours to deal with whatever self-serving redemption trip he was on right now. She scowled.
"Christ, Malfoy, I didn't mean just for me. It's not like I'm the only person you've ever wronged!"
"Well, I'm making a start, aren't I?" he retorted hotly.
She groaned into her hands.
"Merlin, Granger, who pissed in your pumpkin juice?"
"Please, Malfoy. Just go away," she pleaded, her voice cracking in frustration.
He went quiet. Then, hesitantly, as if the words didn't come naturally: "Is… something wrong?"
She snapped. "Yes, there is something wrong! But I don't want to talk about it, and especially not to you, coming around distracting me like you always do with your fake sorrys and your stupid, pointy face-"
He barked out an unexpected laugh, which seemed to surprise them both. He looked at her, his eyes wide, and the bubble of anger and hurt in her stomach deflated a little. "Sorry," she mumbled, suddenly embarrassed.
"They're, er… They're not fake," he said stiffly.
Lowering her gaze, she nodded slowly. "I know. I believe you." There was a pause. "And I'm sorry I said your face was pointy."
He shrugged. "It's okay. It kind of is."
Her lip twitched.
A line appeared at the corner of his mouth where he was trying not to laugh.
And something invisible and unspoken between them softened slightly.
It felt, inexplicably, like something important had changed. And when she looked up into his grey eyes and smiled hesitantly, it felt to Hermione as if she had extended a gesture as shy and sincere as reaching out to touch his hand.
When Madam Pince came round later to close the library and Hemione finally set off for the Common Room, it occurred to her that maybe she was right about Malfoy being lonely. It was unlikely that many other students had tried to extend the figurative olive branch.
Perhaps his peculiar apology was him reaching out to reciprocate whatever kindness she was willing to show him.