Disclaimer: Do I really have to go through this agony again...?
Chapter Fourteen
Hermione's heels hit the floor of the Room after what seemed like only a moment, so suddenly that she stumbled and fell forward. She caught herself on her hands, the book that she had held in a death grip the whole way slipping out of her grasp as she did so, and she pushed herself up off the floor. Her chest felt tight, and her eyes swam with hot tears. Her mind was still far away…
He sighed. "I'm tired of being looked at as the bad guy, you know? I want to do something to help somebody, something that can be looked at as, I dunno, heroic, maybe? I want the chance to prove that I can do something good for a change."
Another memory flashed right before her eyes, burning at the forefront of her brain in its passing.
He grabbed her and pulled her close for a tight hug. Hermione hugged him back tightly. "Be brave, Granger. You were in Gryffindor for a reason."
"Game's over, mudblood." Greyback's voice brought them back to reality, and Hermione's heart went into double-time as she realized that he had reached their row of books. An evil, twisted grin spread across his face as he took the two of them in. "Well, well, what do we have here?" His eyes glistened wickedly when he saw Blaise standing there. "The Dark Lord won't be pleased, Zabini." He tutted, but his smile grew wider still, reminding Hermione of the demented Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.
And then he lunged for them.
Blaise shoved her off, suddenly whipping out his wand. "GO!" He shouted at her, giving her a panicked look before bellowing, "Incendio!" Fire burst forth from the tip of his wand, immediately catching on the books around him, and a fire exploded around them.
"Hermione." His deep, clear, melodic bass voice cut into her thoughts.
She turned her blonde head toward him, hair falling into her ash-smeared face. Her eyes stung from the presence of the tears that begged to fall, and from the smoky air that she had just escaped from.
But as she looked up at Cedric's face, taking in the worry in his expression, she forced herself to swallow down the painfully large knot in her throat. He didn't need to see her like this, not after how anxious he must have been waiting up for her to return. She forced a smile and blinked back the tears, when all she really wanted to do was curl up in a miserable ball and cry for the friend that she'd had to leave behind. "Hi," she whispered.
He knelt down beside her and cupped her face in one of his hands, his eyes distant and sad. Hermione wished that she could feel it more than anything; she ached for his gentle touch at that moment so badly that it hurt. "I wish I could hold you," he murmured quietly, so softly that Hermione almost couldn't hear it, "because you really look like you need it right now."
Hermione reached up and laid her hand over his. "I wish you could, too." She said. They locked eye contact and stayed there, just like that, for a long moment, and then a slow smile spread across Hermione's face.
He chuckled, dropping his hand from her cheek and sitting Indian-style beside her. "What?"
"Maybe…" her heart fluttered as her eyes landed on the book where it had slid away from her, and she reached out and picked it up, setting it in her lap. "Maybe you still can, since I have this."
His eyes widened as he looked at her. "Y-you're serious?" He asked, astonishment inkling its way into his tone. Her smile widened and she nodded shyly, looking up at him through her eyelashes. He looked at her, a wide, handsome crooked smile falling onto his face, his eyes positively glowing with happiness. "Hermione," he said, "you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Thank you so much."
Color flooded Hermione's cheeks and she giggled lightly, looking down in embarrassment. She could still feel his warm gaze on her, and she closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of his elation, a small relaxed smile gracing her lips. He made her feel so happy.
Blaise's terrified face appeared right before her, and she was transported back to that library.
Did he make it out, too? Or was he being punished for helping her as she sat there, doing nothing?
I should've reached out for him, a bleating voice whispered despairingly in the back of her head, I should've grabbed his arm and Apparated both of us out of there. The voice grew louder, angrier. He could be dead by now, and it's all because he helped me! It's all because I didn't save him!
She felt herself detaching from reality, sinking further and further into the dark place in her mind to berate herself. She should have done something, should have been more useful and clever to come up with a way to get both of them out unscathed. She let her head fall into her hands, her face buried deeply in her palms.
"Be brave, Granger. You were in Gryffindor for a reason." Blaise's voice echoed in her head.
Oh, Blaise, she thought, and finally the tears came rolling down, pooling into her palms, I'm sorry that I'm not as brave as you think I am. Her shoulders slumped; her chest burned. I'm sorry I wasn't the hero that you needed me to be.
Warm arms enveloped her, pulling her into an even warmer chest, and she allowed herself to be collected in such a way. Her ear rested right where their heart was, and she could hear its steady beating. For one wild, impossible moment, she thought by some miracle that it was Cedric, but she knew she was wrong when they spoke. "Bloody hell, Hermione, what happened back there?" Scott's voice rumbled through his chest, tickling her cheek.
She curled up against him and he wrapped his arms tighter around her, rubbing soothing circles in her back and gently rocking her. She felt hollow inside, even as she cried, because she felt that she'd betrayed a friend. Despite everything—even though they'd had horrendous history at school, even though he had been a pureblood and she a muggleborn, and even though he was a Death Eater (most likely against his will), Blaise had helped her. And what had she done in return for his kindness? She let him get captured so that she could save herself. It had been a greedy, selfish thing of her to do. She should have stayed there and fought Lucius, that evil scumbag of a man, and Greyback, and then they could've both gotten away.
"I betrayed a friend," she sobbed into his chest, "and now he's probably dead and it's all my fault."
"Hush now," Scott said softly into her ear, "you're safe now, and that's all that matters."
She shook her head, trying to push him away while weakly saying, "But my friend—"
"Your friend would have wanted you to live." Cedric interrupted her. She could tell from the sound of his voice that he was still extremely close to her, and that he had never left her side for even a second. "Like Scott said, you're safe right here, right now, and that really is the only thing that matters." Almost as if it were an afterthought, he added, "So don't you dare blame yourself, Hermione Jean Granger; whatever happened to your friend, I know for a fact isn't your fault." When Hermione didn't argue, she knew that he thought she had given up, but she was far from it.
She was simply too weak, too tired to say, "You have no idea how wrong you are, Ced."
When she finally calmed down enough that she was comfortable with Scott letting her go, she went back to her little changing room and took off the black dress and the heels. Another spell later, and her undergarments returned to their former mismatched bra and underwear. After a few more, her hair was back to its regular brown, curly state and her eyes had regained their coffee brown color. She Scourgified what was left of the makeup she had applied earlier that night and finally slipped back into her old grey cotton sweatpants and T-shirt.
And as she stared in the mirror after changing back, she was slightly disappointed that she no longer saw the striking features of Alyssa Malfoy, but the plain, ordinary ones that belonged to Hermione Granger. She turned from the mirror, sighing tiredly, and zipped up the garment bag, then brought it back out to Scott.
"I'm heading back to my dormitory," Scott said through a yawn, "I think I hear my bed calling to me. Goodnight, you two." They exchanged their goodnights and then Scott was gone, leaving only Hermione and Cedric in the Room.
"I'll start reading the book tomorrow," she promised Cedric, gathering her things.
"Alright." He said quietly. She could feel his eyes on her the whole time, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him directly in the eye after her breakdown. She sluggishly made her way toward the door.
"Hermione?"
She froze, and she knew that she had to make eye-contact now. She slowly turned and looked at him, and her eyes met his. "Yes?"
His eyes trailed from her head to her feet and back up to meet her eyes again, causing her cheeks to flush slightly pink from self-consciousness. "I like you better this way."
Her cheeks were suddenly on fire for some strange reason, ignited by his genuine words.
I like you better this way. I like you better this way. I like you better this way.
His voice was a broken record in her head and his meaning was clear: I prefer Hermione Granger over Alyssa Malfoy.
Hermione smiled softly, her heart pumping at an unimaginably fast speed, butterflies soaring in her stomach at the thought. When she eventually found her voice, all she managed to mumble was, "Goodnight, Cedric."
He smiled back at her then, a ghost of the crooked smile she'd seen earlier. "Goodnight, Hermione."
She closed the door and made her way to the Gryffindor Tower, where she went straight up to her dormitory and went to sleep.
"Hermione?" The girl in question looked up curiously from her Potions homework to see Lavender standing at the foot of her bed, her curly light brown locks of hair straightened to sleek, magical perfection and her face contorted into a look of anxiety.
Hermione sighed and closed her book; the essay wasn't due for another three weeks anyway, and Lavender looked like she could really use a friend. And probably some advice, too, knowing her. "Have a seat, Lavender."
She let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank Merlin." She fluttered down to sit at the foot of the bed.
Hermione regarded the way she was wringing her hands with a slightly arched eyebrow. "So..." Lavender still twisted her fingers, staring hard at them. Hermione sighed internally, knowing that this would be one of those times where she'd have to be patient to draw out the problem at hand. She asked the first thing that came to mind. "Is this about a guy?"
Lavender's lip quivered, and for a second, Hermione thought that she had changed her mind about talking to her after all. But then Lavender let out a huff and shot to her feet, throwing her hands in the air. "Yes! How did you know?"
Hermione shrugged. "Good guess." She replied. Then, "Who is it?"
Lavender ran a hand over her face, and then started pacing the length of the empty room. Back and forth, back and forth. Hermione gave her a slightly skeptical look, which made Lavender heave a huge sigh. "You promise that you won't be mad?"
Hermione bit her tongue to prevent herself from lashing out with an impatient remark and nodded.
The pacing girl smiled a little, grateful for Hermione's confidence, but then pursed her lips. "It's Ron!" She blurted after a long moment.
Hermione's eyes bugged out a trifle, an expression which communicated her surprise, but she put on a more passive face when she saw Lavender's blanched face. "Okay," Hermione said slowly, "but why are you telling me this?"
"Because you're his best girl friend," Lavender said, and then her face turned as red as a cherry. "Merlin, I didn't mean it the way it sounded." Hermione raised an eyebrow, which only caused her face to turn redder. "You're, erm, his best friend that's a girl," she amended quickly, and Hermione couldn't help but let out a giggle. Lavender laughed breathlessly at that, and her face regaining its normal hue. "And, uh, well... I thought I should run it past you first, since you guys have always looked like you would become a thing sooner or later."
Now it was Hermione's cheeks that flooded with color. "Oh..."
What in Merlin's name was she supposed to say to that?
Lavender's face fell. "You still care about him, don't you...?" Her shoulders slumped.
Hermione's face was suddenly on fire when she realized how Lavender had interpreted that. "N-no, Lavender, that's not it, it's just—,"
Lavender held up a hand. "No, no. It's okay. I get it, really." She sighed and plopped down onto the bed adjacent to Hermione's, putting her head in her hands. "It's because of that one time at breakfast, right?"
Hermione's blush evaporated. Actually, to be honest she had almost forgotten about that, what with everything else that had been going on lately. "No, Lavender, it's not about that at all." Hermione ditched her embarrassment; she could clearly see that this was important to Lavender.
As weird as it was.
Lavender peeked at her through her fingers. "Really?"
"Really."
Lavender's hands slid off of her face. Her eyes were slightly watery. "It's hard for me, you know," she murmured.
Hermione frowned. "Why?"
Lavender gave a watery smile. "Because I know how much he cared for you. How much he still cares for you." She sighed and looked down at her hands in her lap, picking at the red chipping polish on her fingernails. "I mean, look at you, Hermione. You're pretty and smart and you basically grew up with the guy." She heaved another sigh, flicking a few pieces of fingernail polish away. "And, well..." Lavender laughed humorlessly, looking up at Hermione. A fat tear rolled down her cheek. "How am I supposed to compete with that?"
Hermione was silent, not knowing what to say to that. Lavender really felt that way? She really viewed Hermione as...competition? For Ron? Hermione resisted the urge to run to the lavatory to retch her stomach's meager contents of the breakfast she had forced herself to swallow down that morning.
Finally, the words came to her. They always did when she thought it out, after all. "I don't care about Ron that way. I used to, but I don't anymore." Hermione admitted. She saw Lavender's shoulders relax a little. "And Ron can be very...difficult to be around sometimes. He's stubborn and definitely not the brightest, but..."
Hermione pictured her freckled red-headed friend. His smile, his blue eyes. All of their adventures together, and his fear of spiders. She almost laughed at that last thought.
"He's got a big heart. And once you've gained his trust, you've gained a lifelong friend." She finished.
So what if things hasn't worked out for her and Ron? As sweet as he could be sometimes, Hermione just never truly felt one-hundred percent compatible with him. She had Cedric now, and Cedric was enough for her. Of course she'd always care for Ron, but like she'd told Lavender, not in that way. He deserved a girl like Lavender—a girl who could always keep him on his toes. Lavender was unpredictable, and Hermione knew that that was the kind of person who would be perfect for her friend.
"And another thing, Lavender." Hermione said, a small smile beginning to break out across her face. "You're completely mad if you don't realize how beautiful you are." Lavender ducked her head and blushed. "And just so you know, brains aren't everything, trust me."
Lavender wiped at her eyes and sniffled once. "Thank you, Hermione. You don't know how much this means to me." They sat in a contented silence for a few minutes, giving Lavender the chance to fully pull herself together.
She stood up in one fluid movement, walking to the door. Hermione smiled; she knew that look of determination better than anything. Lavender was ready to confront Ronald about her feelings for him. "Hey, Lavender?" She turned slightly, looking over her shoulder at Hermione. Her fingers rested on the door handle. "He loves Wizard's Chess and the Chuddley Cannons quidditch team."
Lavender gave her another small, grateful grin. "I'll keep that in mind."
And just like that, Hermione was alone again.
A whole month went by. Hermione constantly looked around with hopeful eyes for Blaise's face among the Slytherins in the Great Hall during mealtimes and in the select few classes that they shared, but to no avail. He had not returned, and she was beginning to give up on the idea that he would altogether.
But she hadn't allowed herself the time to grieve about her friend because of how busy she had been during that time, what with her usual workload from all of her classes along with researching a cure for Cedric. She was growing more and more nervous about him these days, her fingernails bitten down to bloody stubs from anxiously chewing on them. He was disappearing faster the past couple of weeks, a little less of him with each passing day.
His chest was almost completely gone now.
Still, though, he was always smiling, always happy. Hermione didn't understand it. Why couldn't he see how dangerous his predicament was getting? Her heart clenched at the thought of not having him around anymore. That couldn't happen, not when she was positive that she had the answers in that book.
"Hermione." She looked up from where she was ensconced in her beanbag chair in her library nook, the very book that haunted her mind every moment of every day sitting open in her lap. A lock of hair fell into her face, the same one as always, and she tucked it behind her ear, her eyes never leaving Cedric's face. His soft grey eyes were shining with concern. "You can take a break from reading for today."
Hermione was beside herself with shock that he would suggest such a thing. "You've got to be joking, Cedric." she let out a slightly hysterical laugh and held it up and shook it in front of him. "I'm so close to-"
"Please." The slight note of desperation in his voice silenced her and she slowly nodded and put the book down.
"Okay," she said softly. "Okay, I'll stop." A relieved expression flooded his face, and he smiled Hermione's favorite crooked smile (unbeknownst to him, of course). "But just for today," she added quickly, her face heating up as he chuckled at her response.
"Always the over-achiever, I see." He teased her. She merely stuck her tongue out at him in a childish manner, and stood up, trying to ignore how fast her heart was beating. She pulled out her wand from within an inner robe pocket and transfigured the beanbag back into the uncomfortable, rigid wooden chair it was originally.
Then she turned to Cedric with her hands on her hips. "So, what's the plan for today?"
"What, spending time with me isn't good enough for you?"
Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. "You know what I meant."
He gave her a cheeky grin. "Oh, you're so cute."
Hermione's cheeks flushed. "You're a worse liar than Neville." she muttered, recalling how the poor guy always picked up a horrible stutter when he lied, how he shifted from one foot to the other in an uneasy manner.
Cedric quirked an eyebrow, a corner of his mouth lifting into an attractive smirk. "Now why would I lie to you?"
She crossed her arms, losing her playfulness. Her eyes fluttered to the floor, insecurity flooding her. She couldn't help it and she hated it, but she had never seen herself as pretty, let alone cute.
As she was the child of two dentists, she had been forced to wear headgear as a child. That, of course, resulted in ridiculing when she was in primary school, which didn't help because on top of that she had always been a slightly chubby kid. Well, by the time she was about eight or nine, she had finally managed to outgrow the use of the headgear and the extra weight managed to distribute itself when she reached a particularly large growth spurt. And then she came to Hogwarts and had to deal with Malfoy and everyone else constantly berating her because of her muggleborn heritage, her eagerness to learn and be the best, as well as her huge front teeth and unmanageable, unruly hair, which were things she had never taken much notice of until after the fact.
So, naturally, her self-esteem had never been too high.
She could feel Cedric's gaze on her and she knew that his flirty attitude from earlier was gone, but she was too ashamed of herself to look up at him. "You...you really don't believe me, do you?" Hermione's eyes filled with tears as she shook her head, unable to speak.
This moment was humiliating. She never wanted Cedric to see this side of her, this sad, melancholic part of her that had always yearned for acceptance. Even when she was among her own friends—sweet, honest Harry; goofy, stubborn Ron; fierce, loyal Ginny—she still didn't feel like she completely fit in. There was always a part of her that was afraid that they would leave her, and now that they'd done it once she was sure they would eventually do it again for good.
The truth was, she was tired of being alone. Tired of feeling not good enough. But no one ever seemed willing enough to give her a chance.
"Hey," his voice was gentle, soothing, but she still couldn't will herself to look at him.
A tear leaked out and trailed down her face.
He was right in front of her now, she could feel his presence without even having to look at him. "Hermione, look at me."
She couldn't ignore him forever, and she had never been able to resist him when he said her name. She lifted her head, her tears glistening in the light pooling in from the window.
Cedric's eyes were soft, softer than she had ever seen them, like liquid steel sparkling in the sunlight. "Don't cry," he murmured quietly, reaching out and cupping her cheek with an impalpable hand, "you're far too beautiful for that."
His words shook her to her very core and something inside of her broke.
Hermione shook her head roughly, stepping away from him. "You just don't get it, do you?" She snapped.
He just stood there calmly, waiting patiently for her to speak, unabashed by her harsh tone. His eyes were still the same softness as before.
"I'm an insufferable know-it-all. I'm a muggleborn. I'm...I'm..." She lost her fire and bitterness crept in once more, resulting in her voice becoming nearly inaudible. "I'm a mudblood." She spat the word rancorously, shaking her head in frustration. "I've already come to terms with the fact that there's nothing remotely beautiful about someone like me."
Her words hung suspended in the air between them, and Hermione realized for the first time that this was the first time she had ever voiced these deeply personal thoughts about herself. She turned away from him, humiliated and disgusted with herself for telling him that.
She was such a pathetic excuse of—
"That's where you're wrong." Hermione spun around, mystified by him.
If it were anyone else she had said that to, she would have surely lost a friend. But it wasn't, and that was the thing she had to keep reminding herself; this was Cedric. And that in and of itself made her love for him swell until she swore that her chest would burst.
He took a step toward her, his grey eyes calm like the sea on a summer's day; captivating, thoughtful, still with that lingering softness in them. "You aren't an insufferable know-it-all. You're a brilliant girl with the drive to further her knowledge of the world around her." He took another step closer. She was frozen where she stood. "Yes, you're a muggleborn, but I never once thought for a minute that that was a bad thing, because it's not." He let out a quiet chuckle. "And frankly, I never really cared for any of the purebloods I know anyways."
Hermione's face was on fire, her heart beating so hard against her ribcage that it was almost painful, and her breath was caught in her throat as he took another step towards her. Now he was only a few millimeters away. If he were alive, with a body and everything that went with it, she was certain in some part of her currently light-headed brain that she could have felt his body heat radiating off of him. "I never want to hear you call yourself that rubbish again because it doesn't define who you are."
Her eyes were moist now, her vision swimming with tears that were collecting at the corners of her eyes. No one had ever tried so hard to get to her, to break through the thick protective walls she'd built up; brick by brick with each snide remark and snarky comment, every sneer, every glare, every rude gesture or mean note or cruel hex directed at her.
It had taken years to build it up, years of her trying to get a tough exterior so that she could face the harsh reality of the world, and within the span of a couple of months Cedric had managed to nearly break all the way through to where she had been curled up inside all along.
And the tears came streaming down her cheeks when she realized it, finally allowing her to release her pent-up self-frustration and anger.
But he wasn't finished just yet. "You're sweet and loving and generous and you actually truly care about everyone, even the ones who don't deserve it." He smiled a sweet, genuine smile at her. "And that, Hermione, is why you're so unutterably beautiful."
She sniffled and let out a poor attempt at a laugh, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. "Thank you, Cedric."
"No, Hermione," Cedric said softly, "thank you." His eyes shone brightly, igniting an electrifying sensation in her chest that sparked and popped as it seared its way through her veins. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, even though she wasn't entirely sure what it was that he was thanking her for.
And in a sudden rush of giddiness and insanity, Hermione's face broke out into an ear-splitting grin, prompting Cedric to let out a felicitous laugh that made her heart splutter. "I know what we can do!" she said excitedly.
His eyes twinkled with delight. "And what's that?" he asked her with a smirk, his humor still blatantly evident.
Hermione wiggled her eyebrows. "Do you trust me?" It was obvious that she had pointedly ignored his question.
"Of course," his response was immediate.
Her heart soared.
"Then follow me, Mister Diggory."
He easily complied, and after Hermione had grabbed The Extreme Uses of Dark Magic from where she had left it lying dejectedly on the table they left the library.
As Hermione led him around the corner, she nearly found herself crashing right into Scott—luckily she caught herself at the last possible second.
"Hey, stranger!" he greeted her warmly, smiling down at her.
Hermione was surprised to see him, to say the least. "Scott!" She launched herself at him, tackling him in a tight hug.
His chest rumbled as he let out a chuckle, tickling her cheek, and then he released her. "Where are you going?" Hermione looked over her shoulder where Cedric stood, smiling at the both of them. "Ced's here, huh?" Scott asked. Hermione nodded. Scott let out another chuckle and rumpled her hair. "You kids have fun, and Ced," he directed his attention to the general location of where Hermione had cast her gaze a moment ago, simpering at his old friend, "let's not have any funny business, shall we?"
A sanguine flush blossomed across Hermione's cheeks and made her neck extremely warm, darkening to crimson as the two immature boys laughed at her embarrassment (despite the fact that Scott couldn't even see his chortling counterpart). "Bugger off, Logan." She groaned, pushing him away from her. He only let out another round of loud guffaws.
Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to fight the urge to smile and crack up with them. After a bit, he quieted himself, except for the occasional half-hearted complaint about how much his stomach hurt from laughing so hard. Eventually, he did truly calm down enough to have a more serious conversation with her. "Any luck?" He inquired, nodding toward the old book in her hands.
Hermione let out a tired sigh and shook her head. "Not yet, but I'm not giving up."
Scott nodded understandingly. "How about I take the book for a bit while you go relax? Maybe I can find something."
Hermione smiled gratefully. "That would be amazing," she said, handing it over. "Thanks."
"No problem."
They talked for a little while longer before parting ways, and then it was Hermione and Cedric again. "You want to know something, Ced?"
They had begun walking again.
He inclined his head toward her to indicate that he was listening, a half-smile on his face. "Sure."
"You Hufflepuffs aren't so bad." Hermione said.
He laughed. "Thanks, I think...?" He raised an eyebrow at her.
She giggled and pushed the front doors open, the entryway flooding with warm spring sunlight. She closed her eyes as a light breeze that smelled of sweet floral blooms and freshly cut grass caressed her face, drawing her outside to the grounds. She turned around and quirked an eyebrow at Cedric, who was still standing in the doorway. "You coming?"
He shook his head slowly, sadly, taking a step backward. "I'm afraid that I can't do that."
Hermione was disconcerted by his words. "Why not?" Her eyebrows drew together and she crossed the threshold of the school once more.
Cedric looked longingly out over the lush green grass that covered the grounds before returning his gaze to rest on hers. "I am bound to the castle." At her confused look, he explained, "I'm physically incapable of leaving the castle in my current state."
Hermione tried to hide her disappointment as she closed the large double doors. "Well that's not so bad, I suppose." She mused. "I guess we can go to the Room, then." He nodded his head, obviously relieved.
So they journeyed to their favorite haunt—Oh, the irony, Hermione thought—in cumbersome silence. When they got there, however, Hermione noticed that something wasn't quite right when she tried to summon the Door to appear.
The wall remained unchanged, the inconspicuous grey bricks mocking her as she tried with all her might to get in. It was as if it weren't even there, or...
Or it was rejecting her.
"Cedric, does anyone else go into the Room besides me and Scott?" she asked hesitantly.
"What?"
"Answer the question, please."
Cedric ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, someone else does go in there sometimes."
Hermione didn't know why, but she felt a surge of adrenaline slowly pumping its way into her veins. "Who?"
He opened his mouth to reply when the Door began to reappear.
Hermione's eyes widened when she realized that whoever was in there was about to come out.
"Hide!" she hissed, running to duck behind a pillar.
He gave her a pointed look, and she mentally cursed herself.
You're the only one who can see him, stupid.
Suddenly, the Door opened and three people stepped out: an unmistakable platinum blonde-haired boy, flanked of course by his dim-witted cohorts.
Hermione's brows knitted together in confusion.
Malfoy? Crabbe? Goyle? What were they doing in the Room of Requirement?
But it was the fourth person who really had her reeling.
Because the last to appear, although slightly marred by bruises and cuts, was undeniably the very person she had been so desperately searching for ever since that night at Malfoy Manor.
Blaise Zabini.