After seeing Harry and the Weasleys off, Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon in the library between two shelves far from the entrance. She had transfigured a book into a pillow and was propped up against the wall with more books piled like a wall around her. First she read a book on animagi and the magic used to transform them. It seemed like a complicated process and she was astonished that all the marauders had succeeded. Some time after finishing it, she read about magic in Scotland, magical creatures and even about squibs. The afternoon light turn red at the window then died down completely. As time wore on her back began to ache and her stomach growled but she kept on studying into the night. In this space far from anyone felt safe and all her own. She never wanted to leave.

It was very late when she heard footsteps coming from the entrance. They were business like and quick, pausing every so often. Holding her breath, Hermione squeezed herself as far back as possible, wishing that the person would go away. She already knew who it was and despite feeling bad about not going to dinner, she didn't want to see the one person who could make her talk.

"Hermione?" McGonagall's voice called to her, but she ignored it and when the footsteps retreated she sighed with relief.

Hermione wasn't sure why she was hiding from her friend; a friend she had defended earlier in the day. A part of it was that she was confused by her feelings for the witch, but some of it could be attributed to the guilt she felt from Ron's rage. She didn't want to think about that disastrous reunion, so she turned her mind back to her book.

The minutes dragged on and she found it harder and harder to concentrate on the alchemy text. Her mind kept wandering back to Minerva. She wanted to run to her and confess everything about the day, about Ron and how much he scared her, however she feared that she would confess to liking her. Really liking her. And that couldn't end well.

A loud meow – almost a guttural growl – made her jolt in surprise. Leaning around her wall of books, she was almost relieved to see it was a large scruffy grey cat with patches of hair missing. After her encounter with the Basilisk, Mrs Norris had recovered well and was as moody as ever, but Hermione felt an almost kinship with her fellow victim. Not that she wasn't still a little bit terrified of her.

"You scared me half to death." She muttered in annoyance. This year with her head-girl privileges Mrs Norris posed little threat to Hermione and she had grown used to seeing Filch's pet around.

The animal made that wretched noise again and Hermione put her book aside.

"Come here, Mrs Norris," she crooned softly, motioning with a finger.

The cat cocked her head as if confused that a student wasn't afraid and took a few cautious steps forward.

"That's right, girl, come on, I won't hurt you."

She slowly padded over and sniffed Hermione's hand, shrinking back when it was lowered to her head. After a few moments of getting used to each other, the cat finally moved close enough for Hermione to touch her.

"You're not so scary, are you, puss?"

The animal made a noise that sounded like a gurgling. Hermione assumed it was purring and continued to run her hand through the thinning fur. When she came to close to the tail, though, Mrs Norris bolted back to the end of the shelves and gave a disapproving look before skulking off. Hermione considered going after her, but thought the better of it. She wanted to stay in her safe place for a little while longer.

Hermione had just gotten comfortable again, her mind settled by the encounter with Mrs Norris, when footsteps began to sound in the hall again. She held still, worried that it might be Filch, but saw the feet that approached from between the shelves, those long legs and pointed boots with the trailing green robe could only be McGonagall.

Minerva stopped and turned at the row of shelves where Hermione was hiding. They couldn't see each other over the pile of books, but Hermione could hear her tapping her foot crossly.

"Hermione, you're going to worry me to death one day." With a wave of her wand, the professor parted the books so she could approach the young witch. "You missed our date."

Hermione knew she didn't mean the word that way, but her face still twitched into a frown. "I know. I just needed some time to myself."

Unimpressed by the excuse, McGonagall moved closer and towered there, candlelight flickering over her features. Hermione looked gaunt compared to her proud face.

"What happened today?" She asked, not letting her annoyance make its way into her voice, "When you and the boys returned this afternoon you all seemed so downcast. I thought the three of you would be happy to see each other."

"It's complicated." Hermione mumbled. She didn't really want to go over the whole exchange.

"I can tell something happened to upset you."

"Nothing happened," she snapped, wincing at how forced it sounded. "I'm fine."

There was that look. That purposeful look that showed Minerva wouldn't be shaken off so easily. McGonagall transfigured the pile of books into a chair and perched on it, leaning forward slightly so she was closer to Hermione's level.

"You've been avoiding me since this afternoon. Have I done something wrong?" Her voice was soft and caring, but the younger witch couldn't help but feel guilty.

"It's not you. It's Ron."

McGonagall's mouth thinned. "I see. Did he hurt you?"

Hermione shook her head slowly. "He'd never do anything to hurt me. I mean, not on purpose. He's just… jealous, I think. He blames me. It's stupid. I shouldn't have let him get under my skin." She made herself slow down. She didn't know how much to say. Hell, she didn't want to say anything, but the words kept slipping from her mouth. "He says I've been cheating on him." She pinched the bridge of her nose. Saying it out loud, she couldn't believe he had the gall to accuse her like that. Maybe carrying Voldemort's horcrux had addled his brain.

"Oh." Minerva was quiet for a moment and her brow creased slightly. "Is it Harry?"

Hermione almost laughed in surprise. "What? No. He thinks… he thinks it's," she stammered, "you." There, she said it. She said exactly what she hadn't wanted to say. Glancing from under her fringe, she hoped it would be brushed off, but Minerva looked outright horrified.

Gaping, McGonagall tried to compose herself before exclaiming, "That's preposterous! Where did he get such a ridiculous notion?"

Looking away again, Hermione flushed with embarrassment. It wasn't that bad, was it? Although she hadn't expected her friend's feelings to be anything more than platonic, it still hurt. A lot more than she thought. She looked away again and clutched her knees close to her chest.

"He knows we've spent time together," was all she offered in explanation. She didn't want to let on about the map or how the dismissal made her feel.

Her reaction must've given her away a little, but Minerva misinterpreted it. "It's just nonsense, dear, and he has no idea what he's talking about. Don't let his accusations get to you."

"I'm not." Standing up jerkily, she picked up her pillow. "I'm going to go to bed now. I just… today took a lot out of me."

McGonagall still looked worried and as she stood, she reached out with a hand but pulling back at the last second. "I understand. It's been a difficult day for you. Would you like me to send up some supper?"

"No." Hermione responded quickly. The last thing she wanted was to eat or see anyone else. In a hurry, she returned the books to their proper places and turned her back on her friend.

The headmistress followed her as she walked into the hall and watched with unease as the girl hurried up the stair case. Something was still wrong, but Hermione hardly seemed ready to tell her about it. She could wait to find out.