The book slid from her lap, and Hermione barely caught it with a flick of her wand. "Shite, the Burrow! I was supposed to meet there after work."

In a rush, it all came back—while Christmas would be held at Grimmauld, the Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday leading up would be spent at the Burrow. Finishing renovations, Molly had explained in her owl. More likely it was to give the Weasley matriarch her whole family back in her own space, readily available to be fussed over just the way she liked.

Monday had arrived, and she'd been too distracted to even realize. She glanced at her watch—she should have been there two hours ago. Hermione jumped up, hastily shoving the napkin of cookies into her robe pocket. "Was it Ron in the floo?" she asked, flying past him and practically running down the spiral stairs.

"Some Weasley, yes," Lucius said, his distaste clear.

"You didn't…"

"Say I had you chained in my dungeon?" Hermione spun, wide-eyed. Lucius smirked. "Or my library, for that matter? No, I cut off the floo connection before he spit too much ash onto my floor."

"Good—I mean, thanks, Lucius," she muttered, before turning back and wrenching open the door. Still reeling with her carelessness, Hermione didn't even manage a goodbye before she hurried off towards the floo. "The Burrow!" she cried, bracing herself as the flames danced green. After a spin and a whoosh of air, Hermione stumbled back out.

And into the Burrow's very crowded sitting room.

Eleven pairs of eyes ogled her as Hermione stepped gingerly from the brick fireplace. All of the Weasleys plus Harry and Fleur sat smooshed into the couches and chairs. To Hermione's surprise, Luna was present too, perched on the edge of Charlie's armchair.

"Hiya, Hermione," George piped up, grinning. A chorus of 'Hellos' followed, some more eager than others.

Hermione gave everyone a fleeting smile before her eyes landed on Molly and Arthur. "So sorry I'm late," she said, wordlessly banishing the dust from her thick wool robes. From the corner of her eye, she caught Ron glaring daggers. "The department kept us behind. Something about tying loose ends before the holiday break."

Molly leapt to her feet, bustling over to wrap Hermione in a warm hug. "Think nothing of it, dear. Some of us," she said tartly, pulling away to glance at her youngest son, "got a tad carried away with their worry."

She nodded, trying to smile as Molly insisted on bringing her a cup of tea. Once the woman had left, Hermione smoothed out her tweed skirt, eyes roaming the room to look for a seat and wishing the others would just resume their conversations. While there was an open spot on the loveseat beside Ron, she was quite intent on ignoring him for the time being.

"Over here, Hermione," a cheerful voice called out. Luna rose from her perch and settled cross-legged on the carpet. She patted the space beside her. "I want to show you my Moon Frog detection pendent." Hermione dropped down beside her, shoulders sagging with relief as Luna presented the chunk of glass hanging around her neck. It seemed that Luna's offer was enough to break the tension, and the conversations resumed around her.

"That's brilliant, Luna," Hermione said, grinning as she bent low to inspect the glass. It looked more like the bottom of a jar than anything else, contained within a copper ring studded with pale green crystals.

"I can show you how it works, if you like," Luna hummed. "The Moon Frogs do enjoy a winter's evening."

"I—I would love that." Anything to get out of the Burrow's overcrowded sitting room, and away from Ron's burning glare.

Luna led her from the room, Ginny jumping up from her spot with Harry to join them. Bundling into cloaks picked from the enchanted cupboard, the three girls stepped out into the night. Their boots crunched along the layer of snow as they wound out into the garden.

"So, er, the Moon Frogs…" Hermione began when Luna made no move to grab her necklace.

"Asleep already," the girl explained. "I just thought you could use some air."

Hermione beamed at her. "You're a bloody good friend, you know that?" She slipped her arm into Luna's.

"Hey, what am I!" Ginny pretended to huff, jogging to catch up.

Hermione threw back her head, giggling as she took the ginger's arm too. "My soon to be sister?" As soon as she said it, Hermione's eyes flew to Luna. "Shite, I—was I not supposed to…" she whispered, spinning back to Ginny.

"Oh, I already knew," Luna said happily, reaching around to squeeze Ginny's hand. "Harry's had Nargles whizzing around him all day, trying to snatch that ring in his pocket. Congratulations."

Ginny rolled her eyes fondly and steered them deeper into the gardens, where the vegetable patch had been enchanted to keep free from the frost. Tops of carrots poked out, bright green against the shining snow. "Not sure why he's even carrying the ring around when he's waiting until Christmas to propose." Ginny set her eyes on Luna. "Now how about we hear why dear big brother came home with Miss Lovegood?"

Luna launched into an uncharacteristically shy telling of her newfound relationship with Charlie. As part of Hogwarts's new curriculum, guest lecturers had been brought in throughout the semester. As a seventh year, and already being of-age, Luna had been chosen to aid the guests in instrumenting their courses. When McGonagall asked Charlie to give lessons on dragon studies, he fell into a quick friendship with his student aide. A few Hogsmeade trips later, and after more than a few rendezvous in the Room of Requirement, Luna and Charlie had become an item. Hermione thought it was brilliant. Ginny did too, once she got over her shock that Charlie—famous for his self-proclaimed anti-dating policy—had actually managed to 'bag a bird,' as Ginny so succinctly put it.

They found themselves at a low stone bench nestled between two trees. After casting a warming charm, the girls sat down and stared back at the Burrow. Light flickered in the lower windows, and she could even see Harry through one, speaking to Bill with a hand running self-consciously through his hair. Hermione let out a long breath, watching it puff out into the frigid air.

"All right, let's hear your story too," Ginny said to the silence.

Seated in the middle, Hermione was exposed to both their expectant gazes. "What do you mean?"

"You know, why my git of a brother spent the last hour thinking you'd been locked in Lucius Malfoy's dungeon. After he checked just about everywhere else," she added with a snort. Hermione stared at her boots. Ginny gasped. "You were?"

"No!" Hermione bit her lip, steadying herself. "I…it's complicated."

"My older brother falling for his way-out-of-his-league student aide is complicated," Ginny insisted, waving her hand between Luna and the house. "Being locked in Lucius Malfoy's dungeon—"

"—Not his dungeon!" Hermione cut in, holding up her hands in exasperation. Merlin, this is going to be some night. She raked her fingers into her hair, elbows on her knees to hide her furious blush. "His…library."

"For work?" Luna asked calmly.

"Sort of," Hermione admitted. She sat up again, her eyes planted firmly on the Burrow. "More of a personal research project, really. L—Mr. Malfoy has been nothing but courteous. He had a library, and I needed books. Besides, we hardly see each other, and he leaves me alone while I'm working."

"It's been a while then, has it?" Luna inquired.

"Since mid November."

Silence hung around them, stiff as the sheet of snow beneath their feet. Finally Ginny sighed, saying, "I can't say I'm pleased, Hermione, but I do understand. We all need to distract ourselves. No war to do it for us anymore." Ginny took Hermione's hand and gave her a warm smile. "We just want you to be safe. Ron too," she said, jerking her chin towards the house. "Even if he can be annoyingly dramatic sometimes."

"You should have seen him at the floo," Luna said, giggling. "Shouting at Malfoy Manor until someone must have kicked him out. Ended up on his back with about a bucket of ash in his mouth. Mrs. Weasley was livid."

Hermione grinned, imagining, before realizing it had been Lucius who did the over-eager kicking. Her smile faded as she looked between her friends. "You won't tell anyone, will you? About where I've been? I know I need to tell Ron, but I'd rather wait until there's no chance of him claiming I've ruined Christmas." The girls agreed, and Hermione grabbed them both into a tight hug. They hopped off the bench not long after, once the sight of Molly descending on the sitting room with floating mugs of hot chocolate became far more appealing than hanging around in the cold.

Ginny headed inside first, but before Hermione could step in after her, Luna tugged gently at her sleeve. Hermione turned. Luna stared back, a knowing smile on her pale face. "Don't worry, Hermione," she said, rocking up onto her toes. "He'll come back to you." She said it so surely, without any doubt in the world.

"I…okay," she said weakly.

Luna skipped past her, leaving Hermione alone in the December chill. The wind licked her curls across her cheeks, but Hermione didn't make a move to push them back. She gazed at the spot Luna had disappeared through, frozen with the idea that Luna hadn't meant Ron at all.

She was in the bathroom when Ron finally found her. He called out her name, his voice muffled through the door. Hermione spat out her toothpaste, shoved back her brushed-out curls, and yanked open the door. Ron blinked, reddening when he realized she was holding one of Ginny's skimpy nightgowns, about to put it on. Another downside to forgetting about the trip—she'd be stuck in her friend's far more daring wardrobe for the next few days.

"Ron." She crossed her arms over her chest, glad that she hadn't yet stepped out of her workwear and robes.

"Can we talk?" He looked behind him where his bedroom door stood open.

Hermione averted her eyes. "I'm staying in Ginny's. I was just…the bathroom on her floor was taken."

Hurt flashed across Ron's face before he masked it with a shrug. "S'okay. I just want to talk." He swallowed. She averted her eyes.

"All right," Hermione said stiffly, following Ron into his room.

The small bedroom was no different than when he'd been a teenager, swathed in burnt orange, crimson, and gold. A twin bed sat pushed against the wall, unmade and reeking of stale sheets. Hermione's nose wrinkled; he had been prepared for them to share, and he hadn't even the decency to clean.

Ron closed the door and moved to his bed. The box springs groaned under his weight as he shifted, seeming to debate getting back up or sliding in further. After a long pause, Ron stood back up. He stared at her, expecting her to start. Hermione studied a faded Chudley Cannons poster instead. A snitch darted behind the player's head before zipping out of frame.

"Where were you?" he asked in gravely voice. Ron cleared his throat. She grimaced.

"Like I said downstairs—working late."

"What on?"

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Ron. You know I can't talk about it."

"Oh right, because even the bloody secretary is special enough to get all the Ministry's secrets," he spat.

She whirled on him. Ron held his ground. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you jealous of my job, Ronald? Because I can assure you, tromping around France is much more entertaining than blotting out bloody reports all day!"

"I don't tromp."

"No? No fine Parisian food, no sightseeing, no French girls you stroll around with between missions—" Hermione cut herself off, seeing Ron's face contorted in silent fury. She hadn't even assumed he was cheating on her, before now. In fact, his work France hadn't even been on her mind for weeks. The thought just popped into her head like a firework. Dead in seconds, but already the damage was done. And judging by his silence…well, Ron was never silent in a row like this.

He walked past her to the window, his arm held awkwardly tight to his chest so as not to brush her. He stared out at the snow, ears as bright as his hair. "I know you were with Malfoy," he said quietly. "I can smell it on you."

She scoffed, even as the guilt flooded her stomach. "Smell what exactly?"

Ron turned stiffly, not meeting her eyes as he stopped just inches away. Hermione looked at a painting over his shoulder. A sloppily brushed quidditch pitch sat askew in the wooden frame. Before she could step away, Ron's hand dipped into her pocket. Her heart thrummed as he pulled out the napkin of oatmeal raisin cookies. "They only smell this good when house elves make them," he muttered, before crushing the cookies in his fist.

The crumbs fell. The napkin fluttered after. Ron slammed the door on his way out.

The two days before Christmas passed in a flurry of activity—helping Molly with the house, catching up with the rest of the family (Charlie was unusually fun to chat with, his face always bright pink whenever his young girlfriend flounced into the room). Everyone seemed to be in the best mood since the war ended. Everyone except Ron. Hermione tried not to let it bother her, even though she could tell his foul mood was agitating the others.

Harry especially seemed a bit out of sorts, though whether that was his best friend's surly attitude, nerves about the proposal, or stress leftover from work, she couldn't be sure. Harry even lost his team a friendly quidditch game when Percy, of all people, snatched the snitch from just below his ear. None of the boys had let Harry forget, after that.

Despite the tendril of negativity curling around the days, Hermione felt more relaxed than…well, longer than she could remember. Free of her usual girlfriend duties of hanging around Ron, Hermione was free to spend time with her friends when she wished, and to find a quiet corner when she needed time to think. The research was never far from her mind, like a feather dragging deeper across her mind until she acknowledged it. There was little to do, of course, but she managed to jot down her thoughts as they came up.

Where is Sirius? The Edge or afterlife?

Hermione stared at the scrap of parchment in her hand as she sat alone in the kitchen, nursing a coffee. This would be her foremost question to answer, once she returned to her daily researching. All of her previous questions—of the tangibility of the Edge, of how to get there without dying, of where the Veil led to—had to come after. This one felt excruciatingly simple, yet the farthest from her grasp. She still saw Sirius in her dreams, but they were always her dreams. He was a visitor. She was desperate to give him a turn at playing host.

While the days at the Burrow were wonderful, the nights seemed insistent on making Hermione miserable. She was always at the manor, before Sirius saved her. And even though the blade never cut her, seeing it, living it, was enough to send her screaming into Ginny's silenced bedroom. Luckily the redhead never questioned why Hermione had suddenly stopped snoring. That, or Ginny wanted the silence for herself as well.

After Monday's nightmare, Hermione began to wonder if seeing her friends had spurred the increasing fright of the dreams. While her friends brought nostalgia of the good days, of childhood, they were a reminder of the war too. Every time Hermione accidently stared at Bill's scars, or George's missing ear, the reminder set in a little deeper, waiting until sleep to be released.

Thursday morning, the day they were set to move to Grimmauld, Luna stopped Hermione outside their shared bathroom. "I find my nights without dreams some of the most relaxing. It lets the cobwebs clear out, at least until the spiders crawl back in." Luna smiled and disappeared inside the bathroom.

Hermione leaned against the wall, listening to the faucet turn on. A dreamless sleep might do her some good, even if it meant she wouldn't see Sirius. She was fairly certain Grimmauld Place had some Dreamless Sleep in its potion stores left over from the war.

Despite her tension with Ron, her increasingly dark dreams, and the newness of hosting the holiday at Grimmauld Place, Christmas morning turned out to be perfect. Andromeda came in with baby Teddy, providing the whole family with hours of entertainment until it was time for a Christmas roast. The entire house had been decorated with living holly and shimmering tinsel, much to Kreacher's grumbling about the blasphemy of the house's new look.

George even set up his newest invention—drifting kiss-unlocking mistletoe—which caught Luna in the doorway into the sitting room. Of course, Charlie had leapt up from his game of chess with Ron, snogging his new girlfriend until they were both red-faced and grinning stupidly. Hermione had managed to duck out of the pestering mistletoe all day until she was trapped on her way back from the loo. Luckily Fleur had found her before Ron, and the French girl was more than happy to save her from 'zat undeserving brother in-law.' Clearly the rest of the family had picked up on their spiff.

Even after a perfect Christmas day, Hermione knew nothing could top Harry's proposal. Just after lunch, when the entire family was lounging about the kitchen drinking butterbeers and spiked cider, Harry stood up from his seat.

"Excuse me!" he called out. Only Hermione and Ginny looked his way. Before Harry could grab his wand, Ginny stuck her fingers in her mouth. A piecing whistle flew out, and a hush swept over the room.

"Er, thanks, love," Harry muttered, giving her a sheepish grin. Harry looked out over the crowded room, his smile broadening with every person he met eyes with. "You all know I'm not really one for the extravagant—"

"Whatever you say, Chosen One!" George hollered, earing a sharp pinch from Percy on his good ear.

Harry glared good-naturedly. "What I mean to say is, well…I cannot imagine a better place for this day than with my family." He caught Hermione's eye, and she blinked at him through her accumulating tears. "I wish more of my family could be here today," he continued, steady but quieter. Pain crept into his voice, though he hid it well beneath his warm smile. "I just wanted to thank them for helping us fight for the world we know today. One built on love, instead of hate." He reached down, trying to stretch for his drink with a shaking hand. Ginny pushed it into his fingers, before wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Fred Weasley," Harry said, raising his glass. The table murmured his name, Arthur pulling George and Molly into his sides.

"Nymphadora Lupin, Remus Lupin, and Ted Tonks," Harry called out. Andromeda pulled Teddy's tiny hand to her lips, kissing it as tears slid down her cheeks.

"David and Jean Granger," Harry continued, reaching down to squeeze Hermione's shoulder. She covered his hand, focusing on the touch, willing her breaths to ease in and out. The tears came anyway, hard as she tried to blink them away. Her parents were alive, but they were gone. The war had torn them from her with no hope to get them back.

"Sirius Black." The tears stung harder. Hermione blinked rapidly as Sirius's face swam before her. The man in her dreams smiled and touched her cheek. Hermione brushed at her tears, almost feeling the gentle swipe of his thumb across her skin.

"J—" Harry's voice cracked. "James and Lilly Potter." He swallowed and tipped the glass to his lips.

Every eye in the room was stinging for the family they'd lost, for the love they'd once known. Hermione watched as they drank, some glasses drained while others were set right back down, as if they'd break if they held on for too long. Beside her, Luna leant her head against Charlie's shoulder. Ron stared at her from across the room, and she grew hot under his longing gaze.

Harry set his drink down. As he cleared his throat, all eyes turned back to him. "One more thing," he murmured, pulling Ginny up with a tug on her hand. Hermione watched, breathless, as Harry dug into his back pocket and pulled out the ring. The diamond glinted under the candlelight as gasps and sobs chorused the room. "Ginevra Molly Weasley," Harry whispered, sinking down on one knee. "I've been mad about you since I nearly set a basilisk on you."

"I think we're both at fault for that one," Ginny choked out, grinning despite the tears slipping down her face.

Harry grinned back. "I love you, Ginny. Then, now, and always. Will you marry me?"

They kissed. Ginny didn't even need to say yes. And the family cheered and cried for the love and the loss and the beginning of the rest of their lives.

Snow drifted past the library window, bathed in golden light from the setting sun. Just about everyone had disappeared into separate corners of the house—Molly, Andromeda, Fleur, and Teddy in the kitchen, discussing Fleur's revelation that she and Bill were to start trying for a baby; Ron, Percy, Bill, and George in the sitting room, reminiscing with the aid of fire whiskey; Charlie and Luna somewhere upstairs, poking around the house's trinkets; Harry and Ginny, curled up in bed claiming to take an evening nap.

After gently refusing the others' offers to join them, Hermione cozied up in her usual library armchair, gazing out the window as she read from Hogwarts, A History. She was just about to get to the chapter on first year traditions when a tapping sent her jumping. A large grey owl clung to the window, talons scratching at the glass. A letter dangled from its ankle.

Hermione quickly retrieved the letter, giving the owl a pet before it flew off into the snow. She frowned as she turned it over. It was addressed to her, her name scrawled elegantly across the paper. Her heart leapt even as confusion settled in her stomach. With a glance to check she was alone, Hermione slid open the letter.

Merry Christmas, Miss Granger.

Yours,

Lucius

"What's that?"

She jerked away, spinning so her back faced the window. Ron strode towards her before trying to peer over her hands. Hermione snatched the note away, stuffing it in the back pocket of her jeans. "Nothing," she said, giving Ron a tight smile. "Just a Christmas card from a colleague."

"Anyone I know?"

She bit her lip, fighting back a smirk. "Even if you did, Unspeakable, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know…" Ron shuffled his weight, like he wanted to say more. Finally he cleared his throat and put a hand on her forearm. "Look, Hermione, about the other day...I think we've both had time to cool off now, yeah?"

She ran her tongue over her teeth, wishing he'd just turn away. The letter burned a hole in her pocket, her mind dying to figure out why Lucius had sent it. "Yeah," she agreed tentatively.

Ron rubbed his thumb across her skin, and Hermione fought the urge to recoil. "So you know, then, that I forgive you."

Forgive…"Forgive me?" she deadpanned, pulling away. "What the hell did I do?"

"Accused me of tromping around with French girls, for one. Fraternizing with the enemy for the other."

Hermione stomped past him, fingers curled into fists as she spun back around, unable to just walk away. Magic sparked in her curls. "This is what it's really about, isn't it? Me being at the manor. With the enemy. Clearly you weren't snogging any French girls. I suppose it was rather silly of me to assume a boy like you could land someone who hasn't felt sorry for you since we were twelve."

Ron gaped at her like a fish. Working out which point to fight her own, most likely. "You think it's perfectly okay, do you? Fraternizing with—"

"I am not fraternizing, Ron!"

"Yeah, what's a better word for it? Keeping company with? Cuddling up with? Finding your own person to snog while your partner's away. That's right," he thundered, when it was her turn to gape. Ron was cheating? "Guess you really are the cleverest witch of our damn age."

Hermione blinked as the hurt licked her like a whip. "You cheated on me?"

"Did you?"

"No! Lucius and I are not snogging buddies. We're not…we're just…" Hermione glared at the window behind his head. The snow was falling harder now, rushing past in a blur of white against brick. "You cheated on me," she said again, her voice an icy whisper.

"I snogged someone."

"In France?"

"In France."

Hermione reeled back onto her heels. "You were going to keep it a secret."

"So were you."

"I wasn't snogging Lucius."

"Does it matter?"

Hermione's gaze snapped back to him. She regarded him coldly, stiffly. Arms crossed, spine yanked straight. All to keep the hurt locked inside its cage. "I guess not. Not anymore." Hermione spun around and marched out the door. She didn't stop until she was at the front landing, where she screwed up her eyes and apparated into the dark.

Malfoy Manor loomed up from behind the iron gates, more fortress than mansion. Only a few windows lit up the grey night. She had meant to land inside the house, where the floo let out, but of course that didn't work.

Now, as the memories trickled in, and the snow seeped through her thin red jumper, her decision to come didn't seem like such a good idea. Ron was pissed, they may or may not have just broken up, and she had no idea if Lucius's letter was an invitation, or a perfunctory note he sent to all his…associates. She was about to turn, to apparate back and storm upstairs to her bedroom, when the gates groaned. One side swung open, wind pushing it further. Either Lucius had been alerted to her presence, or he was expecting company. Hermione was still debating which when a pop! sounded, and a house elf appeared just inside the property line.

"I am Fisby!" the little female elf exclaimed, waxy ears flapping. Whether it was her or the wind, Hermione couldn't tell. "Miss is to come in, yes she is."

Hermione stepped forward until Fisby's glassy green eyes were big as tennis balls. "Was Mr. Malfoy expecting someone?"

"No, no. Miss will come inside?" The elf grasped Hermione's hand before she could say no, and with another pop!, she found herself in the manor's back parlor.

"Thank you, Fisby," Hermione said, smiling down at the elf. At least she had avoided the drawing room. With a wave, Hermione dried herself off, about to do the same for Fisby when the elf snapped her fingers, doing it herself. Hermione straightened, staring at the shut door she knew led to the library and study. "Did he see me arrive?" she asked quietly.

Fisby shook her head fervently. "No, no, Fisby sees. Fisby knows that Master will be happy to see the clever witch, so Fisby brings her inside. Master is in the study."

Hermione's eyes widened. Surely that…Is that what Lucius calls me, when he speaks to the elves? Pleasure bloomed in her chest as she took off down the hallway. She slowed her pace as she approached, willing the flush off her cheeks. At least she could blame it on the cold.

Once outside the door, Hermione paused again. She could still leave. Go to bed, or maybe spend the last few hours of Christmas with whoever was awake enough (or sober enough) to chat with. She reached for her pocket, touching the letter, then wound up her courage. She knocked.

A pause, then in a confused voice, "Enter."

Lucius sat behind his desk, hair loose around his shoulders and sleeves pushed up. Like her, he was robe-less today, wearing a crisp white button-up. Anyone else would look like a waiter. Lucius looked like a vision. The thought startled her into speaking. "Hi."

His eyes flicked up and down, appraising her outfit too. "I—I wasn't expecting…did you need to research?" he asked, frowning.

"No, no, I just…" Hermione raked back her hair, all too aware of how the snow and drying spell left it a mass of frizzy curls. She held his gaze and smiled. "I came to say Merry Christmas, Lucius."

His lips parted, then closed, like he wasn't sure what to say. She'd never seen the man so caught off-guard. After a long moment, his eyes sweeping her smiling face, he nodded. Pink touched his cheeks. "Thank you, Miss Granger." He looked behind him, face turned to the window, the sky outside grey but still speckled with evening light. The candle on his desk flickered, hazy in the reflection. When he turned back, his eyes met hers, but his hand indicated at his desk, where a crystal tumbler filled with whiskey sat. "It's early yet. Join me for a drink?" he asked in a low, restrained voice.

Hermione glanced behind him at the simple, silver bar cart, noting a matching glass. She imagined the whiskey sliding down her throat, scorching all the way down. Hermione had never cared for the taste, even if it sounded remarkably pleasant right now. Right now, though, with the way he was gazing at her, the way she had just stumbled in uninvited, the way she had left a row with her boyfriend to visit another man's house…it wasn't right. Or it was, and her mind was too afraid to agree. Hermione offered Lucius another smile instead. "Another time," she said softly, before turning on her heel.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Granger."

Her step faltered. She looked back over her shoulder and said, "Just Hermione," before pushing open the door. She strode away before he could convince her to stay.