Rising as one of the first students in the morning made her turn up in the Great Hall for breakfast when it was almost completely empty: Only a handful of students had left their beds as early as she had. She recognized Durmont at Ravenclaw table, but hurried to sit as far away from her and her boyfriend as possible. Her blouse was buttoned sloppily and his hair tousled, and Hermione certainly could not keep a straight face within earshot. A tiny red haired student had withdrawn to the corner of Slytherin table, as if hoped to be overlooked. Halfway through the hall, she recognized the only Hufflepuff up at this hour to be Ernie Macmillan, bowed ostentatiously over an ancient, leather bound book. She felt appalled by his boastful manner, and decided to take a place least favored by any student: Just at the upper edge, in front of the teachers table.
Unwilling to make her way up into the dormitory, Hermione had simply Summoned her bag, the risk of getting caught for magic outside classrooms seemed worth not having to explain what had torn her out of bed. She pulled a random set of notes from the bag, feeling she might have judged Ernie too harshly for his eager rehearsal habit. Breakfast did not appear on the tables before seven thirty.
She occasionally allowed herself to be pulled from concentrating on common magical creatures, as Lupin had introduced them in their third year. The precise description of smoke patterns to distinguish the age of a hinkypunk turned out too dull to overlook Cho and her best friend rushing through breakfast. They, too, seemed to have made it a habit to eat early, as Marietta still wore a distinct pattern of pimples across her face. It took Hermione a moment to recognize the vague, glowing feeling her chest: She was still a bit proud on this piece of magic. When she caught Chos distasteful, infuriated eye, the glow evaporated into crippled emptiness, forcing her gaze back onto the pages. Had this been the first manifestations of a darker side of her? Covered by supposedly more noble motivations and the approval of her friends?
She forced her mind back to revision.
Yet soon another perception distracted her from 'Skin Care for Graphorns' ('completely unnecessary', it said in a column): The smell of sweat and worn-out shoes announced McLaggens appearance. He had seated himself ridiculously close to her – the entire Gryffindor table was vacant, but obviously he wanted to provide her with an opportunity to watch him consume the largest amount of scrambled eggs she had ever seen in one portion. As the dark circles around his neck and beneath his arms had considerably less contrast, he rose, falling into a light jogging rhythm, making her grunt against her will. A short extract about the Malaclaw and its use in potion making immersed her for the time being: While she read about their bites and stories dealing with its side effect of making the victim unlucky for a week (a litigable reason to abandon your honeymoon, if the newlyweds did not wish to conceive), the table slowly got populated with students. Seamus and Judy managed to almost completely vanish in the crowd between a larger bulk of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs from fourth year, the mass of long sleeves and robes not quite hiding their held hands. Hermione allowed herself a tiny smile.
Deans unspectacular appearance heralded Harry and Ron entering the hall, waving at her, and heading for seats they usually felt most uncomfortable in. Reaching the chapter on Abraxans and Aethonans, Hermione slammed the leaflet shut, she had already had enough of horses for a day. Compared to the amount she had just peeked McLaggen consume, Rons choice for breakfast seemed almost modest.
Harrys face mirrored her own tiredness. "Long night with Madam Pomfrey?"
"Yes." Minutes ago, she had planned to fill them in about all recent developments: Firenze being attacked, Poppy ignoring the link between a student and the probably former patient with grey eyes and McGonagall planning to gather support from the Order. Now, Ron merrily diving into his scrambled eggs with bacon in front of her, Hermione felt unable to speak a single word of what happened at the Hospital Wing.
Harry must have seen her expression, and deciphered it correctly. "Don't want to spoil our appetite?"
"Something like that."
"Has it occurred to you that the house elves might consider it an insult to their diligent slavish work -", he teased her over Ron's grunt, "If you completely disregard their daily commitment?"
"You're not eating yourself."
"Yeah, an empty stomach will help me keep up at McGonagalls drill on Vanishing Spells", he replied jovially, "So I'm excused."
"How's starving yourself helping you -"
"She said we had to feel the magic happen, didn't she?", Ron threw in from over his plate, "If we were into it head over heels – not exactly her words, I know –", he looked up to her, from the same hazel brown eyes like his mother and sister, "That empty feeling in your belly could come in handy -" The flash of empty eye sockets distracted her, soon followed by her insides heavy with guilt, as if someone had not filled them with a decent meal, but lead instead. Ron overlooked her intense blinking completely, but Harry had not missed the changes in her face.
"Exactly. So I am only taking my exam preparations to a new level", he added quickly over a faint grumble. "Whereas you -", he continued, while she still mused whether that sound had come from his or her stomach, " - hardly need such extreme measures, do you? You've spend more time in the library than the two of us together, you should be fine without much preparations on top."
It was a most transparent attempt to comfort her for the lost time before exams, but she appreciated them nonetheless. "Don't have much choice, do I", she answered wearily, forcing a smile.
"Ah, come on, Fred and George got through their OWLs, and they've probably been there – how often?"
"Can't have been more than ten times altogether", a familiar voice said, "And only to research on their wheezes."
Ginny – real, unharmed, warmly smiling Ginny – had stepped up to their places, with Luna in tow. Hermions throat got thick and harsh, and as her sight began to blur, she dived to restore her notes in the bag in a most complicated procedure.
"I've always wondered if they ever bothered to pull Madam Pince's leg", Harry mused, casting a quick glance at her face when she finally appeared back in sight.
"Only to distract her long enough to sneak into the Restricted Section", Ginny replied. Ron snorted into his plate, oblivious to the nonverbal exchange. Hermione pulled a cup of coffee, filled it to the edge, took a gulp and gave, she believed, a credible impression starting to cry from the burn in her throat.
"Here, it's still cold", Harry handed her a jug of milk, "And slow." She could tell he had seen through her move, but his words had spurred a vivid, horrible scenery in her mind: Madam Pince, lumping into the Hospital Wing, one legs ripped from her hip, bleeding hot and uncontrollably, screaming -
"I've got – go", Hermione coughed, carefully avoiding Ginnys eye, "Got a question – on phases of Animagi transformation -"
She felt Harry's gaze in her back heading for the entrance hall.
"She's really becoming a teacher's pet, isn't she?", she heard Luna comment innocently on her flight.
Neither Harry not Ron raised the topic of her newly additional workload with Madam Pomfrey, but when they walked down to Hagrid's hut for another episode of preparing unordered dishes, they were sticking their heads together on how to elude the nurse's restriction.
" … can't be that bad, can it", Harry mused, keeping his voice down, "I bet she'd be happy to see us."
Hermione omitted to inform them that the Ginny who was awake and responsive was lucky to be able to see anything at all. "She might not even recognize you two."
"Why? I'm her brother", Ron scowled, skinning a stack of cucumbers.
"That's why Poppy's damn righ' not lettin' ya lot visit her", Hagrid summoned all natural authority he could muster. "Ye wouldn' want ter put yeself through that. Gonna see much sufferin' soon enough."
"If we just take Harry's Cloak, nobody will -"
"Will you keep it low", she hissed halfway through his serenade: Among the poorly hidden stares of her classmates she had spotted some Slytherins, who were too keen to report their plans to Umbridge. Huddled together, they stood only a few meters afar from their benches, completely unbothered to participate in class. Hagrid had long decided to himself the trouble to discipline them, pinning it to their upcoming exams, which they were, for sure, quizzing each other about when he just was not overhearing. Hermione spotted Malfoy's silvery hair shining brightly in the shy light beneath a heavily clouded sky. It was impossible to tell whether he had heard them.
"Hermione's right", Hagrid agreed, "Mind me being frank with ye, Harry?"
"No, of course not", Harry answered in a warm voice.
"Ye folks need learn a little more discipline. Ye'd be right thinkin' that's rich comin' from myself -", Hagrid cast a quick glance at Rons's expression, who suddenly voided his eyes, "But ye not only getting' yeself in trouble by shoutin' 'bout your plans."
"I wasn't shouting -", Ron started, but Hagrid did not permit him to defend himself.
"I'm meanin' to say -", he went on, "'s not yer own wellbein' the lot of you will be fightin' fer in a while. Ye need to stick together. Keep things between the three of ye."
He strongly reminded Hermione of McGonagall preaching them to support each other. How long ago had that been? Did it matter? Why did the past several weeks feel like ages?
She rolled another layer of rice around stiff avocado, quietly watching Hagrids face while patiently listening to Ron's claims. He, too, had been in the Order when Voldemort had first been powerful. Yet he expressed none of the grim reluctance, wise and a little arrogant even, like McGonagall when Hermione told her about Umbridge's first essay. Their conversations resonated within her, causing bitter resentment to swell in her chest. She's got some nerve placing me in that infirmary, Hermione caught herself thinking. Offering me a strong shoulder if I found myself in darkness, but leaving me surrounded by death. To learn what we're up against. 'I am fully aware that you'll suffer in this process', her teachers words rang in her ears. And despite McGonagall's claims to the contrary, Hermione considered her attitude not a lack of, but severely misplaced empathy. She's not enjoying your punishment, the wiser, bold part of her said. She's expressing sympathy after giving a rational explanation. You're entitled to the latter, are you not? So why not add this personal note, showing you she's not only your teacher, but a fellow human, who does not simply ignore your agony? She's carrying out Umbridge's policy, as much as she's obliged to regarding her role, but she's very well aware of the consequences for you.
Hermione struggled to suppress tears yet again. McGonagall might not lash out on her students like Umbridge did, far from it, she reminded herself. She's not misplacing her empathy – it does not lie in your punishment, but in your person.
But were those two still different things? Hadn't her dealings with Snape shown her that despite her teachers assurances – both of them -, you just couldn't separate one from the other?
Had he been right all along?
"Ye still with us?", Hagrid's voice pulled her from her musings.
"Oh – yeah."
"Ye'll ge tover it."
"What?", Hermione replied, honestly puzzled.
"Tha' Messed Up Charm of Yours", he whispered in his raw voice, little more than a growl reaching her ears. "Ye'll get over it. It's rough now, in the Hospital Wing an' all, but when terms over, ye'll sit in ye mum and dad's garden an' hardly be thinkin' of it."
"I'm not tending a wrecked fence for hippogriffs, Hagrid."
"But ye'll come back, righ'? Back to Hogwarts nex' year."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Well, with Umbridge in the position -"
"Shut it, Ron", Hagrid cut across him. A warm glow had sparked in a corner of his eye. "Think of it as a privilege. Ye all will be allowed to return after summer."
"Yes, Hagrid, of course we'll come back", Harry promised. Hermione got the impression he had made a connection that was not quite clear to her.
"When Dumbledore had to cast me out in me second year, me few last days were horrible", Hagrid said, allowing her to catch up on his motives as well. "But jus' like ye, I hadn't done nothin' wrong, had I?"
Harry puffed Ron beneath the ribs just in time. "The – er – death of Myrtle wasn't your fault, no."
"See? Just like ye haven't, Hermione."
He had a point, Hermione admitted to herself. 'Did not know what you were doing', Madam Pomfreys words became the substitute of the wiser part of her.
She forced herself to smile.
"We'll come back for next term, Hagrid, promise.", she replied, and meant it. Hagrid turned back to Harry and Ron, engaging in another hopeless attempt to convince them to stay away from the infirmary. Hermione pretended to divert her attention to the workbench, but found her mind rattled in confusion.
She appreciated Hagrids support and comfort, and quite understood his desire to see them return. His own bad luck with Riddle had left him in a situation with no option to continue his education, and coming to think of it, Hermione realized she could not have withstood being expelled from the school for her horrific misuse of magic, regardless of the circumstances. She was not grateful being burdened with the consequences, but indeed, she could have ended up much worse. She shared Hagrid's dear wish to stay at Hogwarts, but something cast a shadow on their connection. In contrast to Hagrid, she was responsible for the suffering of Ginny. Unlike her friend, she had done wrong. Their promise would allow him to picture himself in their place, wandering the grounds, taking classes, laughing with some blurred figures all wearing Gryffindor robes. Hagrid drew strength to carry on from these images. Vague and volatile in his mind, they transpired to solid deeds and aims in his routine as gamekeeper. She just couldn't take that from him by lecturing him on the finer differences of their respective situations.
She kept tending the meal for the merpeople, glancing at Harry, Ron and Hagrid's conversation occasionally, feeling deeply lonely among her friends for the first time.