Ever since Katie had returned from St Mungo's, Harry had been incessantly pressing her for details about what had happened to her. He remained ever-vigilant, devising schemes in the back of his mind. However, above all else, he clung to the conviction that Malfoy was the perpetrator.

He stood firm in his beliefs, regardless of Hermione's counter arguments.

Katie received the necklace in the girl's bathroom, so it had to be a woman or a girl who must have given it to her. Not Malfoy.

But no matter what she said, he refused to listen; his mind was made up.

Hermione couldn't accept this.

Malfoy was innocent.

She felt it.

She knew it, deep down.

Harry was seriously mistaken. And his obsession had become dangerous.

So, Hermione started to shadow him, the same way she had followed Malfoy, so far.

Sometimes under the pretext of wanting to accompany him, to spend time with him.

Sometimes disguised, masked, lurking behind columns and open doors.

She couldn't leave him unchecked; he was willing to go to any lengths to extract a confession from Malfoy.

She needed to protect him.

She was the only one who could help him.

On that day, Hermione had a sense of foreboding.

She hadn't managed to wake up on time, missing Draco during his morning routine.

She arrived late to her Ancient Runes class, and she had even contemplated skipping it altogether. However, he was attending that class.

Her mood didn't improve throughout the day.

Her last class of the day, Arithmancy, was the straw that broke the camel's back. She hadn't been able to prepare her latest assignment with the level of attention she desired — she was painfully sleep-deprived — and was convinced that she had made a mistake in one of her calculations.

She debated for a few minutes before deciding to approach the professor at the end of the class to inquire. She needed to know.

However, the unease that had been growing within her since the start of the day became increasingly urgent.

She abruptly excused herself from the class and hurried into the corridor.

Where was Harry?

Where was Draco?

She descended the floors, to go down towards the Great Hall. Harry didn't have any classes, so he must already be having dinner.

Turning a corner, she heard a metallic clatter, and then saw Harry entering a room.

What was he doing on the sixth floor?

She hurried after him.

The bathroom floor was flooded, and she almost slipped on the tiles, barely managing to steady herself on the door of one of the stalls.

Before she could fully grasp what was happening, she heard Harry scream.

"Sectumsempra!"

For enemies.

What has he done?

She moved toward the voices and fell to her knees before the horrifying sight.

He had just killed Draco.

Draco lay motionless, sprawled on the flooded floor. His face was pale, his blood-stained hands clenched over his chest.

She rushed to him, trembling, and placed her hands on his chest, desperately trying to stop the bleeding.

"Don't die. Please, don't die. You can't die."

Her eyes filled with tears, and she couldn't see clearly anymore.

She barely heard Harry.

"No... I didn't mean to..."

Her entire focus was on him.

Suddenly, she felt a powerful hand shove her aside, and she found herself lying on the floor.

She scrambled to her feet as quickly as possible to return to Draco's side, but he was being tended to by Snape, who was whispering incantation after incantation.

Snape knew what he was doing.

He was going to save Draco.

She tried to approach, but Harry held her back. He was horrified, trembling like a leaf. He kept whispering that he was sorry, that he didn't know what would happen, that he didn't want to hurt him. Tears streamed down his face.

The two Gryffindors were drenched in water and blood. Hermione wiped her bloodstained hands on her shirt. His blood. He had lost so much blood.

Her heart tightened in her chest, causing her excruciating pain.

She had been unable to protect him.

She had failed her mission.

A scream of anguish escaped her lips, and she collapsed at Harry's feet, convulsing.

Hermione awoke with a start, her surroundings slowly coming into focus. She was lying in a bed, bathed in the soft, ethereal light of the Hospital Wing. The hushed sounds of night enveloped her, punctuated by the occasional sigh or moan of pain from the patients in the other beds.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, Hermione's eyes darted around until they landed on the bed beside her. There lay Draco, his pallor even more pronounced in the dim light. His face was etched with pain, the deep gashes inflicted by the Sectumsempra curse still visible.

A surge of guilt washed over Hermione as the memories of that fateful moment flooded back into her mind. She remembered the helplessness she had felt in that bathroom, watching Draco crumple to the floor, blood pooling around him. She couldn't do anything to protect him then, and it gnawed at her insides.

She had failed in the mission she had assigned to herself, and now, she was bearing the consequences.