19
September 5th – Sunday – End of Week 2
Hermione awoke Sunday morning without the sense of enthusiasm one would expect for a Sunday at the Willows. She would get her magic back for the day and get to see her friends. After taking a further nosedive into depression, she really wasn't ready to break down in front of them though. She was still set on making them believe that she was better with the hopes of coming home and continuing the charade. Saturday had seemed like an entire week's worth of events packed into a single day, and she wasn't ready to face another when the sun peaked through her curtains, casting rays of warmth and what should have been hope across her cheeks. Though, of course, she didn't feel that. It was like straight out of Disney movie – complete with the morning sun and chirping birds, but all of it just made her groan and pull her head beneath the blankets.
After a few moments of self-pity, she reminded herself of what she'd seen last night in Nicola's memories, and her self-pity was replaced with self-loathing. She was sure Nicola wasn't hiding beneath her blankets refusing to face the day, and hadn't she been through much worse?
After two weeks of this, she wasn't feeling any better. She still couldn't sleep through the night, and the only reason the accidental outbursts had stopped was because of the potion. Was this her life now? Was she doomed to a life of suppressing her magic just to keep herself and her friends safe?
Not only did that thought terrify her but it also filled her with an anger so fierce it surprised her. Hadn't she given up enough? She'd lost friends, seen far more than anyone should have to see, and been abused, tortured, and almost killed on more than once occasion. Yet, she still fought. She marched headlong into battle without so much as a doubt as to whether or not it as the right thing to do. She even tried to go with Harry when she knew he was going to sacrifice himself. She was willing to die for those she cared about and had almost done so her fair share of times.
Why was that not enough? She felt like she was being punished for some crime that she wasn't even aware of committing. She fought tooth and nail to defend her place in the Wizarding World and to make it safe for others, some of which didn't even think she deserved to be a part of it to begin with.
She felt anger radiating off her, the heat forcing her to push the blankets off her face. Some days she hated herself for her inability to get past everything. Other days she hated the whole world for the same reason. It wasn't fair, and she felt cheated. Like, her sacrifices weren't enough. Like, she was being punished for having been there, trying to world's wrongs in the first place.
She had never once thought that she made the wrong choice in taking a stand against Voldemort, but damnit. I'm so sick of fighting. She flung the blankets off her bed onto the floor and thought, when does it get any easier.
She had never been a quitter, but the idea of going through another ten weeks of this sent a stab of gloom straight to her gut so palpable that it stopped her in her steps on the way to the bathroom.
She sighed as she turned the shower dials. I'll give it another week. At least at home, she'd be suffering in her own bed surrounded by people who actually cared whether or not she was around.
After showering and attempting to magically erase the dark circles beneath her eyes after yet another restless night, she left her room, having to force her feet to take every step on the way to the dining room.
She took a seat and began making her tea, when a few others piddled in, looking as excited to be there as she felt. Draco took his normal seat beside her and she glanced toward him, taking note of his typical immaculate appearance.
Speaking of unfair. Oh, today was not going to be a good day. She felt it from the moment her eyes opened, and now, looking over to see that out of all of them, Draco bloody Malfoy looked like he couldn't be bothered. His hair was perfectly tousled, swept back from his face but not in the same stupid way he wore it as a child. No, now, it was as if he just woke up that way, but there's no way in hell he did.
His black button-down fit perfectly across his frame, accentuating his biceps in a way that made her blood boil. How the hell is he even fit after a year in Azkaban anyway?
Also, he had a beard? What the hell was that. Slight stubble ran along his cheekbones and down across his jaw, but instead of looking like a slob like any normal person would, he had the audacity to look even better with it.
"Well aren't you chipper this morning," he said to her, as he poured a disgusting amount of honey into his tea.
She narrowed her eyes at the plate in front of her, refusing to look at him. "I'm in a perfectly lovely mood, thank you very much."
"Tell that to your mutilated toast," he said with a throaty chuckle.
She hadn't seemed to notice that she had been scraping her toast with jelly so aggressively that it split in half. She dropped knife and all onto her plate and wiped her hands on her napkin.
She hadn't noticed Draco leaning toward her until she heard his voice in her ear, causing her to jump slightly. "Also, I can hear your teeth grinding from here."
She tried not to focus on the way her skin came alive as his breath washed over her ear.
What the bloody hell is wrong with me? She stood abruptly from the table and went into the kitchen, deciding on the way that she'd be having an apple for breakfast by herself this morning.
After plucking a large honeycrisp from the bowl on the counter, she started to head back to her room only to hear her name called from behind her. She groaned, already knowing who it was speaking to her, as she turned to see Draco, leaning casually in the door frame as if he owned the place.
"I made the schedule for the week if you want to check it out." He nodded his head once toward the bulletin board on the wall.
"Oh, great. How many dishes will I be washing this week?" she mumbled, as she walked toward it for a better look.
She ran her eyes over the schedule, noticing that she wasn't cleaning the kitchen at all that week. She was, however, cooking dinner – every single night – with Draco.
What kind of game is he playing? She couldn't think of any reason that he'd force her to be stuck with him all week long if not out of pure spite. She turned and glared at him.
"What? I thought you'd be happy not to be washing dishes?" He seemed genuinely unaware of anything wrong with his schedule. Perhaps he was a better liar than she gave him credit for.
Well two can play that game. She gave him her best attempt at his infuriating smirk and said, "For someone who wants to act like he doesn't need or want anyone around, you sure do seem to keep me close by."
He shrugged. "You're the least irritating person here." He sauntered - who the hell saunters like that, anyway, she thought – toward her, lifting a finger for each person in his list. "I think it's pretty obvious why Nicola and I aren't really comfortable in one another's company, Finnigan wants to kill me, Parvati wants to kill me by association, and Dennis could be the happiest person I've ever met." He stopped, leaning over to place his elbows on the counter in front of her with his normal smug grin, always like he knew a secret that everyone else was too dumb to pick up on. "Why is he even here?"
"Well, I'm so relieved to know that I've everyone's last resort," she deadpanned.
He sighed. "Look, I wasn't trying to hurt you yesterday. I –"
"Save it," she interrupted, quite a bit louder than she intended to. "I have no interest in whatever it is you're trying to do here," she motioned between the two of them, "so spare me what I'm sure is a well-rehearsed speech. You aren't the only one who doesn't need or want anyone." And she turned quickly before she slapped him in his stupid perfect face.
Hermione wasn't entirely sure why she was so angry, but it seemed like every single ounce of yesterday's melancholy attitude had shifted into this bitter rage that was just bubbling beneath the surface. She supposed part of it was her anger toward herself for having shown the slightest bit of vulnerability with Draco. Her ridiculous 'I could use a friend' comment to him beside the stables left her feeling desperate and ashamed. That coupled with her lack of sleep and, as this morning's apple for breakfast was a clear example of, her lack of interest in food, left her ready to snap at any and every one.
She spent the morning hiding out in the library, trying to stay as far from the others as she could get, fearing another outburst like this morning's with Draco. She knew anxiety and fear resulted in a magical explosion; she didn't know how bad it would get if she was just angry, but she definitely didn't want to find out.
She walked through the aisles, thumbing through the sections but not really taking any interest in any of it. She returned the awful novel she had attempted to read at the beach yesterday, along with the others she'd taken off the shelves as well, fearing they'd be just as horrible since they came from the same section.
Thankfully, the library was the size of a small bookstore, so there was plenty to choose from. Turning down one aisle, her eyes stopped when she saw a book she absolutely hadn't been expecting to see here. She pulled the book from the shelf, noting that it was the same edition of Matilda that her father read to her a few years before she found out she herself had magic powers.
Despite the weight that immediately lodged itself in her chest, she couldn't help but smile at the memory. Every night her father had sat by her bed as she read to him chapter after chapter, always begging for just one more before bed. Looking back, there's no way her father was invested at all in the book, but he hung on every word as if she were reading the Magna Carta.
She honestly hadn't thought about the book in years, the last time being shortly after Professor McGonagall showed up at her house to reveal that Hermione was a witch. She remembered thinking, as soon as McGonagall left, that she was just like Matilda, only she would never have to lose her powers. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth now, given the current circumstances.
She took the book over to one of the armchairs and sat down. Just this one tiny shred of her childhood quelled the fire that had been burning inside her since she opened her eyes this morning, leaving only grief in its wake.
She read through the book, picturing her father's face at important sections. She remembered him laughing along with her, though he was probably laughing more at her own reaction than the book itself, every time Matilda pranked her parents. Every time Miss Trunchbull was present, he always pretended he was scared, needing to hold Hermione's hand before she could go on. The thought made her smile sadly, and she had to brush a tear away at the thought of his hand in hers, knowing it was a feeling she'd never have again.
She woke up a few hours later, to someone shaking her. She opened her eyes groggily and smiled when she realized it was Harry's bespectacled face before her.
"They don't have beds in this place?" Ron asked, drawing her attention to him as he stretched his legs out comfortably in front of him in the seat across from hers.
She sat up and rubbed her eyes, blinking a few times to clear her vision.
"Well, some things never change, eh, Ron?" Harry asked, chuckling. "Definitely isn't the first time we've caught you passed out in a library."
"Ha ha," she retorted, sarcastically. She stood and stretched before checking her watch for the time. She slept straight through lunch, and her stomach gave a loud gurgle in protest.
"They starving you here, too, 'Mi?" Ron asked, as he picked the takeaway box up from the floor beside him. "Aren't we the best friends anyone could ask for?"
Noticing the label on the front of the bag, she said, "If those are street tacos in that bag, then absolutely."
Harry sat down beside her and began unpacking their food.
"What are you doing? We can't eat in a library!"
Ron and Harry shared a knowing look before standing abruptly and feigning the most apologetic of faces. "Of course not." "We'd never dream of it."
On their way out of the library, Harry leaned in where Ron couldn't hear and said, "You sleeping okay?" He looked at her intently, as if he already knew she would lie.
"Yes, actually. Much better than at home. I just fell asleep reading. It was a long day yesterday."
Seeming satisfied with the answer, the trio headed down the hallway to their normal spot on the front patio. As they walked Hermione filled them in on their trip to the States yesterday, and Harry talked about the big game Ginny had that night, preventing her from visiting with them. As always, her eyes glazed over as they talked about quidditch and whatever team it was Ginny was up against that night.
They made it the patio but found their normal table already occupied. Draco, Pansy, and Blaise sat around a platter of tapas chatting, but when the doors opened and Hermione and her friends stood staring at them at what they'd already deemed "their table," the conversation halted.
"Yes?" Pansy asked, and Hermione wondered how it was possible that Pansy was able to throw so much distaste and sarcasm into such a small word. Pansy's eyes roved over Hermione and her friends, pausing briefly at Ron, before she turned her nose up in disgust.
"Sorry. We didn't realize you all were out here," Ron said, taking Hermione by the elbow and pulling her gently to another table on the far side of the patio away from the Slytherins.
Did Ron just apologize to them? What was that about?
The three took their seats and began unpacking their food silently. Hermione cast one furtive glance behind her to see that Pansy, Blaise, and Draco had returned to their conversation unfazed.
"I don't think it's possible to hate someone more than I hate her," Hermione said, ripping open the bag enclosing her plastic fork. Harry and Ron said nothing, so she continued. "She is absolutely vile, and her and Malfoy are just perfect for one another."
"She and Malfoy?" Ron asked. "They aren't together."
Both Harry and Hermione paused mid-bite and looked at him. In the faint remaining light of the sun, she could see the slight reddening of his cheeks as he shrugged. "She came into the shop a few weeks ago with some other bloke."
Hermione's eyes flitted over him, suspiciously. Why was he blushing over that? Also, the news that Pansy and Draco weren't together was as surprising as the thought of her coming into Weasley Wizard Wheezes. "Pansy was in the shop?" she asked, unable to hide the underlying notes of skepticism.
"Yeah," Ron said, shrugging again and taking a bite, as if there was nothing strange at all for Pansy, with her flawless hair, red lips, and pencil skirts, to be inside any joke shop, let alone one owned by two Weasleys.
"I just can't really picture that. She's the last person I would expect in a joke shop."
"Maybe she's a lot more different than you give her credit for these days," Harry said, chiming in for the first time since they sat down and began this ridiculous conversation. Hermione turned to face him, her eyes wide in cynicism. "Really, 'Mi. She actually came and apologized to me a few weeks ago. For trying to turn me over to Voldemort that time. She's been ostracized enough for it. I think she's a different person than she was in Hogwarts, just like the rest of us." Harry shrugged as well.
She looked at them both in astonishment. "Who are you two?" The boys shared a look between them, before giving Hermione a look of confusion. "You both are being incredibly forgiving here. How is it that I'm the one reminding you both of how awful they" – she nodded toward the table behind her – "made our lives just a few short years ago. They can't have changed that much."
She realized she'd raised her voice slightly and turned slightly to make sure they weren't overheard. The three Slytherins were still talking, so maybe they hadn't noticed.
"Hermione," Harry began, and she immediately recognized his mollifying voice, the one he always used to talk her down when she had been angry with Ron in school, "the war is over. If we can't look past all of that now, then what kind of world are we rebuilding?"
She couldn't hold back her eyeroll and the hmmph that came along with it.
She felt Harry's hand on hers and looked up to meet his gaze. "You said that. After testifying for Malfoy."
She softened then. She remembered saying it, but the notion behind it seemed so far-fetched now. Perhaps, they'd all matured, growing into better people, and she'd regressed into this bitter, angry, broken person that she was now. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry. I'm not being very good company," she said, trying to smile, but she knew they could see right through it. "It's been a rough week."
Harry and Ron shared a quick glance again that sent a bubble of resentment and sadness through her stomach. She used to be in on those secretive looks, and now she felt the chasm that separated her between the two of them widen just a bit more. Here, between her two closest friends, she felt just as alone as before.
She put on a happy face, trying to recite potions ingredients in her head, hoping they didn't notice as she felt the Occlumency walls falling into place. This was the first time she'd tried it with the benefit of her magic no longer being suppressed, and she was surprised at how easily she was able to box her emotion in. A fleeting thought passed through the forefront of her mind - perhaps just finding a better way to hide her emotions wasn't exactly what Walt meant when he suggested Occlumency training with Draco. She pushed the thought away, reveling momentarily in the idea that even if she left here completely unchanged, at least she had the beginnings of a better way to keep everyone from noticing.
Harry and Ron were talking about their weeks, sharing stories with her about their jobs. George had burned off his eyebrows while trying to perfect a candy for the shop – a toffee that would allow the eater to blow fire. Hermione couldn't imagine why anyone would ever want something like that, but then again, half of what they sold seemed completely unnecessary and downright dangerous.
Harry and the rest of his DMLE team had raided a house in Wiltshire where they busted the first brothel of its kind in Wizarding history. However, upon discovering that none of the people running it were human, there was really nothing they could do but leave. Harry recounted the tale with a shudder, proclaiming he'd never be able to forget the compromising positions they'd walked in on, with a number of scantily clad house-elves and even one giant, smaller than most but still towering over every one of the Aurors.
"I really had no idea that their … ehm… body parts were so similar to our own," Harry said, wincing at the memory. "They were all free-elves, so what could we do? We rounded up the few wizards and witches who were there, all quite literally caught with their pants down with a group of veela and leprechauns, and locked them up. They're still being held right now, but I think the Ministry doesn't really have any idea how to charge them at this point. There are no laws against paying for sex with non-human magical beings. The elves, trolls, veela, and leprechauns all were very much in agreement that they weren't being abused in any way. I'm not sure how will handle it to be honest."
Much to Hermione's mortification, Ron was in the middle of questioning Harry about how exactly a human woman is physically able to sleep with a leprechaun, when yelling from just inside the patio doors caught their attention.
They stopped talking and glanced toward the group of Slytherins across the porch from them to see them just as concerned with what was going on inside as they were.
"Stop. Please, stop!" they heard a female voice say just as the doors flew open and a woman Hermione had never met ran out, her blonde hair flying behind her as she ran. Hermione didn't get a good look at her as she ran past, but when Nicola ran out behind her, tears streaming down her face and begging her to stop, Hermione knew it must have been Daphne.
Nicola chased after her daughter just as the younger woman turned and held one hand out to stop Nicola from coming in closer. "Just leave me alone, okay? Don't write to me, don't floo me. Just leave me alone!" Then she turned on the spot, disapparating with a pop, leaving Nicola standing alone in the yard beside the apparation point. She fell to her knees and sobbed.
Hermione stood to walk toward her, but before she even pushed her chair out, Pansy had already made it down the steps and pulled Nicola into her arms. Hermione stood transfixed as Pansy sat on the ground seemingly unworried about her expensive clothes on the grass or the eyes of those watching her from the porch, and comforted Nicola.
"Sure, doesn't look like the Pansy we knew from school, huh?" Harry said, giving Hermione a kind but knowing look. Hermione, looking away from the scene on the lawn, cast a glance toward the others on the porch and found Draco facing the wall with is back to Nicola and Pansy. He had one hand on the wall, the other at his side, and Blaise was leaned in toward him, talking quietly. When he saw Hermione looking toward them, Blaise frowned at her beneath Draco's arm, causing her to blush and turn away quickly, feeling like she'd been caught eavesdropping.
Realizing she was still standing and Harry and Ron had already sat back down, she did the same just as Nicola and Pansy walked up the steps to the patio. Pansy was holding Nicola's hand and whispering something to her, and Hermione noticed Pansy's eyes were red-rimmed and her face shiny with tears. Pansy looked up, noticing Hermione's eyes on her, and her face immediately lost all tenderness. Her eyes turned cold, never leaving Hermione's, as she walked with Nicola inside.
The laid-back attitude from moments before had completely drifted away along with the last few slivers of sunlight. Hermione was inclined to believe, after seeing the kind way Pansy had responded to Nicola and the way that Draco was clearly suffering from what he considered was his own part in Astoria's death, that maybe everyone had all changed for the better except for her. But then she remembered the awful glare Pansy had just given her and Draco's cool tone when he said, "We aren't exactly friends, are we, Granger?" Perhaps they no longer thought Hermione deserved to die, but clearly, she'd always be beneath them.
It hit her then, the real reason behind Draco's sudden demeanor change. He had stood up for her, or at least that's what it looked like, when Seamus was calling her names, and then maybe got "a bit too familiar" with her, as he called it, when they sat beside the fire drinking together a few days later. Then, realizing he was schmoozing with a Mudblood, he pulled away. He couldn't exactly call her that anymore, though, right? That surely wouldn't help his attempt to end his parole, but that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to think it anymore.
Once again it was her blood. It was always come down to that, something she couldn't change, something that many in the Wizarding community would always hold against her. The idea infuriated her - that this is what would always be the deciding factor about her worth to people like Pansy and Draco. For some reason, reconciling the Draco now with the same Draco that had sneered as he called her a "filthy, little Mudblood," brought an unexpected sting of tears to her eyes. Somehow, after sharing a flask and secrets of their past with one another, she thought maybe he could finally see her as a human being, but she'd been wrong. Then, just as strongly, a sudden wave of abhorrence hit her like an ocean wave. Why does it even still bother me at this point?
Realizing that Harry had been speaking, she looked up. "What?"
"You okay?" Harry asked, nodding at her reassuringly.
"Yeah, sorry. I was lost in thought." She smiled, trying to push her overwhelming emotions aside, and hating the fact that she seemed to always be doing that these days.
Ron looked down at his watch and said, "We've only got another few minutes." When Hermione stood and began picking up their trash from the table, he stood as well, saying, "We'll help you get this cleaned up before we have to leave."
Harry held the door open as they carried their takeaway bags inside to throw them away, and when they made it into the kitchen, they realized they had stumbled into the middle of a heated discussion between Draco, Blaise, and Pansy.
Hermione quickly dropped her trash into the bin and, noticing the room had gone quiet, said, "Sorry, we weren't trying to interrupt."
She made a hasty retreat out the door before any of them could respond and began saying her goodbyes to her friends in the dining room. After a moment of hugs and quick pleasantries, Harry and Ron turned to walk out the doors. She followed them onto the porch just as Pansy and Blaise came out as well.
When Hermione stepped out of the way to let them pass, she thought of what her friends had told her, that Pansy had changed. Despite thinking they were wrong, at least when it came to Pansy's treatment of her, she wanted them to think she was at least trying, so as Pansy walked by, she said, "Pansy, that was very nice what you did for Nicola."
Pansy rounded on her, and Hermione was shocked to see that she was looking at her with the same hostility she had before, when Hermione had been staring as she and Nicola walked up the steps. She took one step toward Hermione, shaking Blaise's hand from her elbow.
"Is it that shocking to think that we aren't as callous as you'd like to believe?" Her eyes bore into Hermione's as she kept walking toward her. Ron and Harry had begun to walk back as well, their eyes full of concern at the scene playing out in front of them.
"I didn't mean it like that," Hermione stammered, still surprised that pleasant enough comment could elicit this reaction. Pansy's eyes were teary again, and her lips were drawn back in a grimace. Hermione thought strongly of drawing her wand as Pansy stopped only a few feet away from her.
"I don't know why you seem to hate me so much," Hermione began, "but I've done nothing to deserve - "
She heard the door open behind her and saw Draco walking past her, stopping beside Pansy. "You need to leave, Pansy," he said, calmly, leaning slightly toward Pansy with his back still toward Hermione.
A tear fell down Pansy's face as she said, "No!" The word rang through the yard, seeming to hang in the silence around them. Even Draco took a step back, shocked at her tone. When he raised a hand, trying to pull her away from Hermione, she said it again, even more forcefully than before, and shoved him roughly away from her. "No!"
Pansy reached up and wiped the tear that was running down her cheek and said, "You've done nothing? I'm sure that's what you'd have the whole fucking world believe. The Golden Girl who does no wrong. Well, tell that Theo." The moment the words left her mouth, Hermione felt like she'd been slapped. Pansy had said it, her voice breaking and chin quivering, and somehow that was worse than if she had spat them at her. Hermione's mouth fell open, and for once she had no response. What could she say? She had killed him, and she regretted it every day.
But how did Pansy know that? She looked past Pansy and saw Blaise, his eyes closed and one hand on his forehead. Harry and Ron both looked stunned as well.
Hermione turned without a word, feeling her blood pounding in her temples and her face growing hot. Everyone would know now. Everyone would know that Hermione Granger had killed someone. Someone who didn't deserve to die. She felt the warmth on her cheeks, as the tears finally fell. She felt a hand on her arm, causing her to jump. When she saw it was Harry, she just shook her head and told him to leave.
She walked inside, feeling them all watching her as she did. She heard Draco's raised voice to Pansy, but the words were drowned out as the door closed behind her. She walked numbly to her room, barely even feeling the floor beneath her, ignoring Dennis's concerned questioning as she walked past him. Seamus, Parvarti, and Dean watched her walk by, none of them speaking, but she saw as they looked at one another searchingly as she passed.
Hermione made it to her room and, once again, found herself sitting on the floor crying. Would they take back her Order of Merlin? Not that she really cared about it at all, but it would definitely be embarrassing. Would it be all over the Prophet? Who had Pansy already told?
She hadn't been sitting there long when she heard a soft knock on the door she was resting against. She stood up, wiping her face, thinking it was probably Harry coming to check on her, but when she opened the door and saw the pale face of Draco on the other side, she immediately knew.
She saw the look on his face the moment he must've made the realization that she had put two and two together. The obviously contrived look of concern was immediately replaced with one of apprehension.
"You!" She took one step out the door, pushing him as roughly as she could out of her doorway as she did, not caring that she was crying in front of him. "You told her!"
He lifted his hands up in surrender, stuttering out a "I didn't say-"
"How dare you! This is exactly why I didn't want to come here to begin with, and you gave me that bullshit apology about being forced to be here. What else have you told her? Is it just my secrets or are you sharing everyone's?" She continued to push him against the wall, no longer caring that others had come along to see the commotion.
"I bet you all get a big laugh talking about how messed up I am."
"Granger, I didn't-"
"I'm sure it makes you feel so much better about your own pathetic life to know that mine is just as awful!"
He opened his mouth to speak, and for the third time in her life, she punched him with everything she had. His hands flew to his face, as she yelled, "Fuck you! You don't think my friends would love to hear about all of your mistakes? You don't think people would love to hear about all the shit you regret?"
He dropped his hands from his face, and Hermione hated that this time she'd only slightly busted his lip. Blood slowly ran down his lip and bright red patches blossomed across his cheeks. The muscles in his jaw rolled, and she watched as his eyes turned icy. Not like he was Occluding, but back to match the pale greys of the angry, cruel little boy he used to be.
He slapped the hand she'd had pointed in his face and stepped toward her. She took a step back as he towered over her. He never put his hands on her, but she felt like she was being backed up to the wall behind her anyway, not by magic but just from the proximity of him and the way he was looming toward her.
He placed his hands on the wall beside her head, blocking her in, and her heart began to race.
"That's the last time," he said, menacingly, his face so close she could see the way his eyes shifted back and forth between the two of hers. How he was capable of so much anger without even raising his voice was astonishing. "That's the last time you'll hit me."
"Or what?" She was backed up against the wall, but she refused to be afraid of him. She stood herself up as tall as she could glaring at him just as harshly. "What could you possibly do to me?"
He was so close to her that his chest touched her own as he inhaled deeply, and he took a step back away from her. Despite the distance he now put between them, the glare he was giving her hadn't changed at all.
"Shut your fucking mouth and listen for the first time in your life. I didn't tell her that. I haven't told her anything. She told me." He was still breathing heavy, looking at her with a murderous stare as he wiped a finger over his lip and looked down to see the blood she'd drawn from him again.
"You expect me to believe that? Nobody else knew except Harry and Ron. She's your friend," she said, pointedly.
"I don't care what you believe," he said, coldly, before turning away from her and walking to his room. His door slammed behind him, and she jumped when she heard a loud thud from inside his room a split second later. She looked around, seeing all the others watching her.
Thankfully, Walt, Susan, and Alys hadn't returned for the evening, but Hermione was certain it was only a matter of time before they knew too.
After everything Seamus had done to get himself close to being kicked out, he'd never broken the one rule that would actually send him packing. Instead, shockingly, it was Hermione who threw the first punch, and for it, she'd be packing her bags before the end of the night.