The effect was immediate. Hermione couldn't see much of the griffin's front, but she heard the agonized shriek and saw bits of the result. When the griffin twisted its head around in a frenzy, she saw that huge slashes had opened up across its face and chest and trembling wings.

Hermione could only watch as it took another stunning spell directly to its head before it shrieked again and closed the scant distance and snapped at Malfoy's shoulder.

Somehow that action was all wrong, unreal almost. For some reason it didn't seem real, like there was some subconscious part of her mind that couldn't comprehend Malfoy getting hit like that. But he was slammed to the ground all the same, his face plainly saying that it was indeed real. She felt her heart clench and the center of her chest burned.

Then Malfoy was lost entirely from her view as the griffin pushed past and over him in a feral manner, any hint of the grace it might've had now wholly absent.

"Relashio magnus!"

It was a wonder that she heard it at all with so much noise pounding all around her.

The shriek that the griffin had been issuing turned suddenly from agonized to terrified.

It wrenched itself away like it had been burned. By now there was blood everywhere, and Hermione watched in shock as Malfoy clambered to his feet, his cloak coated with it. He still had his wand in his good arm while he cradled the other.

A moment later, as though the griffin had suddenly changed its mind, it ceased its frantic retreat and gave a low snarl, but Malfoy advanced on it as quickly as his awkward gait would allow.

"Relashio magnus! Relashio magnus!" he cried, relentlessly punctuating each incantation with a harsh flick of his wand. The griffin squealed and shied away from him again. Another stunner followed by the same incantation and the creature turned with some finality and fled down the path.

Hermione barely had the wits to move out of the way before it swept past her. With Malfoy's spells still chasing after it, the griffin gave one final shriek and spread it wings. A moment later and it was gone, the echoes of its cries eerily dying away through the forest, which had suddenly fallen silent.

Malfoy muttered the incantation again as though it was a curse, and Hermione guiltily realized that it was a more powerful variation of the heat charm. Griffins naturally didn't like intense heat because of the susceptibility of the membranes that made up their wings, if she recalled correctly. She only wished that she'd been able to remember that helpful bit of information a moment ago.

By the time she reached Malfoy, he'd already sunk gingerly to the ground, taking no pretense in hiding how much he favored his left shoulder.

"Malfoy, are you all right?" she asked as she dropped to her knees beside him, wishing there was a less stupid way of phrasing the question.

"Oh, don't worry," he gritted through his teeth, using a tone only a bare few notches above the whine she was all too familiar with, "If I wait a few more minutes I'll probably painlessly bleed to death."

She could have hit him then. Hard. And in the arm. His bad one.

"Oh, stop it," she folded her arms across her chest, mostly because she didn't know what to do with them, "You are such a faker."

"That was no hippogriff," Malfoy made a show of tenderly peeling his cloak away to examine the gash in his shoulder, "Shame the greasy oaf never brought one of those to class, huh? They're kind of related … to hippogriffs, I mean." He curled his lip in disgust as he fixed an incredulous look at her and raised his voice mockingly. "Oh, look out Malfoy! It's a griffin, it's a griffin!"

Hermione felt her cheeks hotly rebel on her.

"I swear you're so worthless," Malfoy continued, looking back down at his shoulder, "You just about got us both killed. I haven't seen more pathetic spells since Longbottom."

"If you're not going to—" she broke and abruptly lunged for his free hand, yanking it away from his shoulder. With her other arm she moved her wand towards the wound. "Let me at least—"

Malfoy recoiled from her like she was about to use the killing curse.

"Get away! Stop!"

"Oh, quit being such a baby!" she said, realizing how stupid it would look if she stopped now.

"Knock it off!"

She gave the best laugh she could muster in the hopes of lightening the repulsing mood directed at her. As she moved in closer, he tried to push himself away. "This will only take a minute if you hold still. Come on, it's not so—"

"No, stop it! Granger, I said stop!" Malfoy's voice was abruptly at a shout as he shoved her hand away. She noticed then just how angry he looked, and how stupid she felt. He glared at her as he straightened his rumpled cloak, so that it was like he had it before she'd touched it, she observed angrily. "Just stop it. What do you think you're going to do anyway? You're useless, remember?"

She stood up, wishing at that moment she could just disappear.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that he had to always be like this, that he always had to be him. And it certainly wasn't fair that she felt so hot and uncomfortable under his glare. Only now did she self-consciously realize that her hands were covered with the blood from Malfoy's cloak.

She stared down at where it and the dirt were thick on her hands. In that moment it just seemed so futile, all of it. She probably couldn't even use her wand to remove it like Malfoy was now doing so easily.

He was watching her intently, almost hungrily. He was watching for her reaction. He wanted to see her break again, maybe even cry. That was all he had ever wanted from her. At school she'd always kept it from him. It had been easy then. But things were different now and far too much had happened. With a sinking dismay, she realized just how true that was. Their years at Hogwarts could only ever be memories now. That had been a time when Malfoy hadn't known how to hurt her. Now he did, and Harry and Ron weren't beside her anymore.

Looking almost disappointed, Malfoy turned to administer to his shoulder with his wand. She had to bite back on the incessant urge to correct his attempts. It hurt to admit that she probably couldn't perform the proper spells, but she could at least tell him which ones were the best to use.

That was what he wanted though, just another excuse. Just more fodder for his opinion of her. He hated her. She'd somehow forgotten that fact since they'd left the manor. The arguments they'd had out here had been no less bitter than before, but they had also just been a series of retaliations over the wrong words. At least that's how she'd thought of them. She supposed he hadn't.

"I can help," she blurted in a seizing moment of uncertainty. It sounded pathetically pleading even to her ears.

He didn't look at her, but gave a humorless laugh, as though he thought something else was funny. "You passed up the only way you could help anyone days ago, remember?"

She gaped at him for a moment, not comprehending. When she did, it was another moment before she could bring herself to believe that that was what he was talking about. She could only stare at him when the uncertainty had passed. He was wearing an oddly neutral expression.

She spun around, not having the capacity to think nor care about which direction she was heading. She just had to get away from Malfoy now. How could she ever have thought that she could tolerate him for any length of time?

She couldn't see anything. She was only barely aware that she was still walking fast. There was no urge to cry, just to get as far away from Malfoy as possible and never see him again.

"Hey—hey—Granger, you can't go that way—"

Her fists clenched and she stopped shaking her head when she realized that was what she was doing.

"Where are you going? If you go too far that way you won't be able to come back."

She would apparate to her safe spot, gather up what supplies she still had left there and—

"Granger, wait!" Malfoy sounded almost panicked now. "Wait a second!"

And then his hands were on her shoulders, trying to slow her down. It was a mockery of how someone trying to be gentle might have done it. Had he even ever touched her before?

"Stay away from me," she said as she struggled to pull away, alarmed at the frailty in her own voice.

"Wait, just listen to me," Malfoy's hold on her was becoming tighter, "Granger!"

"No," she mumbled, sick to death of him. Sick to death of everything. She didn't know if she could take any more of this. It seemed like she'd finally ran out of resolve.

"Listen!" Draco spun her around forcibly, taking hold of her shoulders and making her look at him. "I haven't meant that much, you know that don't you?" She tried to pull away again but his grip became desperate. "No—please … don't go. I don't want you to go."

"It's too late," she spat and pushed at his arms, but he pulled her closer.

"Please don't go …" his downcast eyes were moving frantically, "Please, Hermione—"

"Don't!" she screamed. "Don't say my name!"

He pulled away. "What can I do then? What can I do to make you stop?"

"You don't want me too!" She only now realized, from the way he was holding his arm, that she must have hit it at some point.

"Of course I do. If I didn't want you to stay I would've gotten rid of you a long time ago."

He was trying to reason. Draco Malfoy was trying to reason with her. She took a step towards him before she could stop. She had never hit anyone else besides him in her life. It was sort of ironic really. Admittedly she could claim to have been at her wits' end the first time, but what would that make this? Her problems in third year seemed laughable now in comparison.

"It doesn't matter what you want," she used all the self-control she still possessed and turned away again, "I can't believe you haven't figured that out yet! You're just—so—completely—" she stamped her foot on the ground in frustration, unable to deny that the thought of leaving, while appealing in some ways, made her remember just how terrible it was to be out there by herself.

She turned back towards him again, only to gape when she found that he was smiling, actually smiling at her. But why would he be smiling at her? There was nothing remotely funny about any of this. She certainly hadn't done anything funny.

He hid the smile quickly, but that still left her with no idea what to do. She could walk away. It would be simple in practice, and it would show him. That was probably what he had been smiling about; he probably thought that he knew what she was going to do. And he was just a miserable prat after all. That wasn't going to change. He was just going to keep saying horrible things, because he didn't care if they hurt her. There was also the nagging truth at the back of her mind that she really couldn't do much for him. She might even put him in unnecessary danger. But where would that leave her if she really did go away?

But despite all that, there was one truth that she knew, even past everything horrible he made her feel. She'd never known what it meant to be truly lonely before all this. And she never wanted to feel that way again.

Composing herself, she shot a smirk back at him. She couldn't show that he had affected her, not really. She knew that would only make things worse.

"So are you going to live or should I start writing your tragedy?" she asked, nodding curtly at his shoulder, unable to keep away a genuinely satisfied expression at how deftly she'd recovered things.

Malfoy was only startled for a second. "That's the Granger we all know and—well, know. Changed your mind so quickly?"

"I didn't changed my mind about anything," she snapped, but she was already feeling better at how easy this was. It was lucky that she hadn't actually said out loud that she was going to leave.

"Oh, right, and you were just getting some more exercise? I suppose you do need—"

"I just needed to get a breath of fresh air," she scoffed, "That happens a lot with you around."

Malfoy was nodding as if he wasn't listening, but he was half smiling again. He made his way over to the edge of the path and settled back against a tree. "I'll sleep better tonight knowing my little unemployed Mudblood is still with me."

"Does that mean we aren't going any further today?" she asked testily as she crouched beside him and reached to examine his shoulder. She glared him down when he tried to bat her hands away. Apparently all this effort had tired him beyond the capacity to resist further. Instead he leaned back and closed his eyes, settling on a disgruntled expression.

"Your skills of deduction are astounding," Malfoy winced slightly despite himself as she prodded a little too zealously just for that, "My everlasting sympathies automatically go to whoever winds up with you as their mother."

Given any circumstances it would've been a strange remark, but she supposed it was the closest thing to a civil conversation that they were going to have to settle for. Reminding herself how optimistic she'd been not so long ago, she frowned and wondered if this was reality's way of setting her straight.

In any case, she could've done without the griffin.