They didn't meet up for their Potions assignment for over a week, and Angelina came to her yesterday morning to set a time for a group meeting today since the deadline was coming up in three weeks.

When she got to their meeting place, Angelina was already there with a stack of books, "Heya," she smiled. Hermione greeted her back and sat across from her.

"I read all your notes," she slid the stack of notes she had given her and grabbed another pile of notes from her satchel, "I rewrote them and added some more information in between and highlighted them so that we don't get confused," Hermione forced a smile on her lips. Angelina was just like her old self. She usually was the one to put this much effort and hand it to her comrades, but now the roles were reversed. She was replaced.

She hadn't done any additional research in the time between their group meetings. She hadn't felt like doing it, if she were honest.

Yes, she had written sixty-two pages, but Angelina had put in more work than she and Malfoy combined, which wasn't how it was supposed to go.

She was always first, Malfoy second, then the others, including Angelina.

Now she was in the others category, second to Malfoy, and Angelina had taken her spot.

She was entirely to blame for this three-sixty switch of the original lineup, but still, it was crazy how, if she didn't demonstrate her perfectionism and gave it her all only once, she immediately fell rows behind.

"That's great—

"What's great?" Theo cut in, walking over to their table with Draco by his side. Those silver eyes bored into her, scanning her features intensely. She didn't look away and kept her eyes on him, "Angelina's research," she clarified, watching Malfoy taking a seat directly across from her.

He hadn't blinked once, and neither did she.

He leaned back in his chair and bent his arm to place it on the top of his chair. She crossed her legs and leaned back as well, making herself comfortable.

"Angelina, you are a lifesaver!" Theo exclaimed, scanning through the stack of notes. She laughed nervously in response, "Thank you," she smiled.

Malfoy cleared his throat, squinting his eyes slightly.

Was he close to giving up? Because she could hold her stare for hours.

Hermione opened her eyes even wider to prove her point. She saw a ghost of a smile appear on the side of his lip. She sneered at him in response, making his smile grow more apparent. As their staring contest continued, she watched his slight smile morph his face from discreetly amused to calculating.

Theo and Angelina hadn't noticed their little game yet. They were occupied with planning how to test their research in their next Potions class.

The longer he kept his gaze on her, the darker his eyes grew. He lifted his hand to his neck to scratch a spot, and her eyes followed the motions of his long, refined fingers.

"Goldy?" Theo addressed her, but she didn't hear him. She was too focused on the blonde across from her.

Her whole body flinched abruptly when Angelina poked her shoulder. She felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart pounding. The sudden movement had led her to blink, making her lose their—out of the blue—contest. Instead of looking at her with a victorious smirk, he stared at her with a worried expression.

The last person she wanted pity from was him. The energy in the room had entirely shifted, and she quickly got up and made her way to the lavatories.

Damn her. She hated how her body reacted whenever someone touched her without her being prepared for it. It felt like she could see all the horrible instances of the war again. All the times she got tortured, the times that she got touched.

Touched against her will.

She felt like those grotesque hands were all over her again. The feeling repulsed her. She wanted to rip her skin off and all the parts they had touched her.

No amount of washing would purify her or make her forget. Those handprints were still there, and the effects of the Cruciatus still lived inside her. She could feel it swarm in her flesh.

"Goldy?" She heard Theo call from outside the lavatory, "Don't worry, I'm not going to come in unless you want me to, of course. I'll be waiting right outside if you need me," she appreciated Theo for not asking her the dumb question of 'are you okay?'

She sat down, shivering against the cold tiles touching her back. She placed her head on her palms and closed her eyes, building more walls to keep the memories far from her reach. She would not let herself remember.

"Theo," she spoke after a while, feeling like she had built enough walls.

"Yes?" She heard him rise to his feet. She opened the door, meeting his gaze. He stood there, with hands in his pockets, studying her face. He had waited outside for almost an hour, and she was grateful for him. The best of people really came into your life at the most unexpected moments, and he really was the best thing that had happened to her after the war.

She was prepared for it. She reached her arms out and hugged him tightly, but his hands still remained in his pockets, "It's okay, you can hug me," He slowly dragged out his hands and embraced her petite frame, "Thank you," she whispered.

…

No secrets?

Ron had lied to her. Nothing could justify the way he acted towards Parkinson. Again, she wasn't jealous, but it hurt that he didn't trust her enough to share who he was seeing with her.

He didn't have to, of course, but after everything they'd been through together, she would've liked to think that he would trust her enough to tell her who he was seeing.

Was it because who he was seeing was Parkinson?

Or maybe he felt a bit weird sharing his new love interest with his sort of ex? They hadn't really dated, but they were together during the war.

Hermione tried to put herself in his shoes. She tried doing this whenever she thought she looked at things too objectively.

Let's say she got into a relationship with someone he hated, someone from Slytherin, like Goyle, for instance. Would she feel comfortable enough to share it with him?

Yes, and no.

She supposed she wouldn't go out of her way to tell him, but if he asked her specifically, then she would tell him.

Would she, though?

Yes.

Yes?

Yes. She would feel a bit hesitant and uneasy while telling him. She supposed she wouldn't be able to look into his eyes while doing so, but yes, she would still do it.

Hermione had asked him, but he had lied straight to her face.

Or maybe when she asked him, they weren't seeing each other yet, and it was something that had happened very recently.

That's the only conclusion she could come up with.

Or did he simply not want to tell her?

Didn't he trust her enough? She really hoped it wasn't the case.

Was their friendship growing apart?

Would they never be close to each other again?

Hermione spiraled in her overthinking brain. If she dug any deeper, soon tears would arise.

Stop!

Hermione, stop!

She went over to look at her reflection in the mirror and spoke to herself, "Hermione, I know that your brain is naturally wired to overthink everything and take every single thing people do personally, but you have to stop. Stop caring. You were so good a month ago. You had forbidden yourself from feeling anything. Go back to her. You were good like that. You were more relaxed," Hermione hoped there wasn't anyone listening at the other end of her bedroom door. She had to switch her humanity off, thinking too much wasn't good for her. She didn't want to feel anything again. It caused her too much pain.

Damn her for naturally being a very sensitive person.

Why could she be more like Malfoy? Cold and emotionless all the time.

Why did she have to feel everything so heavily?

Why did she feel emotions more heightened than others?

She couldn't go back to the old Hermione. She didn't have the strength to live with all her emotions bottled up in her, ready to explode at any moment.

No one knew. Everyone always thought she had her whole life in control, but it couldn't be more wrong. She was barely holding on to the thread of it.

Stop, she reminded herself again.

Stop thinking!

Stop!

STOP!

She would just ask him why—STOP—he hid it from her and move on with her life. And maybe she would find out that it didn't have anything to do with her. That her overthinking was for nothing, like it was ninety percent of the time.

She was even in battle with her own mind like the exterior ones weren't enough. She grabbed onto a pillow and screamed her lungs out into it.

She was panicking. She felt her heartbeat accelerate.

She got up and started pacing around the room. She felt all kinds of emotions stir in the pit of her core; she couldn't let them out. She got out of her room and started running. Her frame collided with the frosty air when she stepped out of the dormitories and ran towards the depths of the Forbidden Forest, trying to resist the tears threatening to fill her eyes, but they were stronger than her.

She had lost yet another battle, and tears came swarming down her cheeks.

The more tears fell, the faster she ran. Her speed was remarkable, considering how weak and out of shape she was. She hadn't gone out for a job ever since the war. Another daily habit that she had given up on.

She tripped on a branch and fell forward, screeching in pain. She had dislocated her right arm, and it fell limp. She couldn't feel nor move her arm, but the pain was still there. She peaked at her arm and saw that her Radius bone was sticking out of her forearm. Her face grew horrified, and she quickly shut her eyes. The tears grew stronger, and she tried to reach for her wand, only to realize that it had snapped in half in her pocket when she fell. She cursed at her luck.

Her cries grew louder, and she didn't dare look at her deformed arm again, "Mione?!" She heard Ron running towards her, "What happened?!"

The pain coursing through her veins didn't allow her to formulate words. All she could do was scream. The tears had completely blurred her vision, and she couldn't even tell where he stood. She pointed to her right arm.

"Fuck!" He exclaimed, kneeling down next to her. He took out his wand, "Okay, fuck. Hermione, breathe," Sweat came prickling down his forehead, and he was panting. He reached to carry her in his arms, "I'm taking you to Pomfrey."

She shook her head and pointed at her forearm insistingly, "Now!" She cried out.

"I'm shit at healing spells," her yells grew louder, "Fuck! Okay! I'm going to fix this. Stay with me, okay?" He brought his wand close to her arm and mumbled a couple of spells. She could feel her pain slowly deteriorate, but it still hurt.

"Is it working? Do you feel better? Please tell me it's working," he tried to keep a calm tone, to not heighten the tension even more, but he couldn't hide his terrified expression plastered across his features.

She bit her lower lip and nodded, still keeping her eyes shut, "Okay," he exhaled, "Now, I'm going to place the bone back, okay?" The simplicity of his amateur medical talk was to laugh at. She hated herself for finding it funny. A laugh escaped her mouth in between her sobs.

"What?" He asked, his brows pulled together in confusion. He couldn't tell if she was forcing herself to cope with laughter or if there was genuinely something funny. She ignored his question. She didn't have the strength to respond, "Okay, take this," he slid his sweatshirt off of him and levelled it to her mouth, "I've already cast a numbing charm, but bite this just in case," she nodded, placing the sleeve in between her teeth, and squeezing her teeth against it, "It'll be quick," he assured.

The numbing charm was pretty effective, and she didn't feel the need to bite into the sleeve anymore. She watched the ground while he gingerly worked on her arm.

"All done," he said, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding. She slowly tried to move her arm up, but a sharp jab of pain stopped her, "I would refrain from moving it for a few days if I were you," he cringed his teeth, "We really should go see Pomfrey. I might have done something wrong," he insisted.

She didn't want to go. She hated the feeling of being a patient. It made her feel weaker than how she already was.

Great, now she was also disabled, temporarily, at least.

"Diagnostic," she said in a low voice.

"Diagnostic? You want me to cast a diagnostic?" he inquired, and she nodded in approval. He flicked his wand and showed it to her.

She squinted her eyes to read the pamphlet in the air. Her eyes were still burning from the tears.

She had a severe rupture in her nerves, but he had managed to place the bone back to its rightful place and sew her skin back together, leaving a slight trace of a scar. Her scar was bright red because of how new it was.

Another edition to her vast collection.

She couldn't point out a single body part of hers that didn't have one.

She supposed she had to go to Madame Pomfrey for the damage to her nerves, "Okay, but tomorrow," she said.

"Mione, we can't risk this. What if the damage becomes irreversible if we wait any longer?" He insisted, getting back up on his feet.

"I'm not going," it was foolish and illogical of her, but she really didn't want to go, "Why don't you trust me anymore?" She asked, looking up at him.

"What?" He furrowed his brows, "I do trust you."

"I don't think so," she shook her head. She was about to cross her arms but remembered that she couldn't now, so she carefully picked her right arm and placed it on her lap.

"Where's this coming from?" He questioned her, pursing his lips.

"You lied to me when I asked you what was going on between you and Pansy," she responded, watching as his dumbfounded expression transformed into guilt.

Ron sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "This is not important right now, you're injured, and I'm taking you to Pomfrey," he kneeled down, placing his hands under her legs to pick her up.

"Stop!" She protested and pushed herself backward with her feet, "I'm not going anywhere until you answer me."

He bit his lower lip, placing his arms to his side, "Fine," he said irritatedly, "Do you promise to let me take you to Pomfrey if I answer? No protesting whatsoever?" He asked with raised eyebrows, looking at her expectantly.

She tilted her head to the side for a second, considering her options, then nodded in agreement, "Okay."

He sighed, leveling himself to her eyesight, "Look, I didn't lie to you, Mione. At least not on purpose. I just didn't—I didn't know how to tell you, and I—I didn't want to believe it myself either. I had spoken too soon when I swore that I would never even come in contact with someone from Slytherin, especially someone with parents who are Death Eaters. It—," he sighed, "It just happened, Mione," he scratched the back of his head, not knowing what else to say.

So it indeed was her fault. Even if it was indirectly, it was still because of her.

She remained silent for a while, then finally spoke, "So are you together then?"

Before he could respond, a loud shriek came from behind them. Ron quickly turned around to see what was going on. He walked towards the source and disappeared from her view frame. She felt defenseless and scared without a wand.

She wasn't going to just sit here and hope for the best, so she pushed herself upwards with her left hand, taking strength from the ground.

Her limp arm dangled from side to side as she took hurried steps to reach him. The yells became audible. The closer she came to the source, she spotted Ron's bright red hair and called out to him.

He turned around to face her, "Don't just leave me like that! I don't have a wand," she said tersely.

"I'm sorry," Hermione shook her head at his weak apology and continued walking.

"Let me fucking go!"

Hermione's lips unsealed in shock. There were three black hooded figures dragging someone through the forest. The subject's legs and arms were locked in by thick ropes, preventing them from moving. She couldn't see who it was since a black bag covered the person's face.

"What the fuck is going on here!" Ron shouted, making the three captors turn to face him abruptly.

"These fuckers are going to drown me!" The hostage exclaimed, and Hermione immediately recognized that voice.

Malfoy.

The captors cast a quick silencing charm. "It's Malfoy!" She exclaimed, turning towards Ron, whose expression had shifted from concerned to blank in a millisecond.

"Mind you're own fucking business, Weasley!" One of the captors shouted, casting a disillusionment charm, making them vanish from sight.

"Ron, do something quick!" She was overwhelmed by a surge of anger at his calmness.

He turned to face her, "No, he deserves it," he placed his hands in his pocket.

"Are you insane, Ronald! They're going to kill him! Come on, do something!" She felt her heart racing, knowing he could be killed any minute now. Someone's life depended on them, and she couldn't care less who it was.

He strode his ground and shook his head, "No, his kind caused all of us so much pain, and him being gone would do the world some good."

"Are you fucking hearing yourself right now!" She fumed, her eyes flaming with fury, "Give me your wand," she reached for it, but his grip was tight, and he leveled his hand upwards so she couldn't get it.

"How can you be so merciless! He doesn't fucking deserve to die! Give me your wand! Now!" She didn't even recognize who was standing in front of her anymore.

This wasn't him.

It couldn't be.

"He should've died or ended up in Azkaban years ago. I'm sorry, Mione, but I'm not going to do anything."

"Don't you dare call me that! If you were sorry, you wouldn't behave like this right now!" Tears of anger came rushing down her frame. She felt betrayed and helpless, "Are you really going to let someone die because of some past feud you still can't get over?! The war is over. We won," her voice almost broke, "Please."

He pursed his lips, "No," his eyes were cold, his stare cruel.