Hermione couldn't get Snape's story out of her head the next day. It took Blaise poking her sharply in the side at breakfast to get her attention and pull her out of her head.

"What?"

"I asked if you're feeling better now," Blaise said. "Everyone was worried when you ran out crying." He gave her a pointed look. "You're clearly not, though, if it takes me three tries to get you to look at me."

"Oh." Hermione had practically forgotten the inciting incident behind it all. "I—ah, I'm feeling somewhat better about all that. I just got overemotional."

"Did you, though?" Blaise shrugged, ambivalent. "The Dementor's Kiss is terrible, like you said."

"Yes, well…" Hermione winced. "I was rather cruel towards Harry. He didn't deserve to hear those things."

"Maybe not," Blaise said calmly, "but they worked, Hermione."

Hermione looked at him quizzically. "What do you mean?"

Blaise's lips quirked.

"You heavily implied that your faith in Harry was shaken," he told her. "That you thought he was brave and noble and good, and now you thought he wasn't. And that shook Harry pretty badly."

Hermione blinked. "It did?"

"It did," Blaise confirmed. "Harry was all for running after you immediately, but the rest of us held him back, wanting to give you some space. Harry was almost frantic, telling us how he wasn't evil over and over again, as if he was terrified we thought he was." His smile was wry. "We assured him none of us thought he was evil, but we managed to explain why you were so upset and bothered, I think. Even he admitted by the end of it that it was rather out of character for him to want to see a person so utterly destroyed, and that he didn't really, he was just mad at the time, thinking about his parents."

Hermione let out a sigh.

"That makes sense," she said. "I don't have dead parents, so I can't imagine the rage I would feel over such a thing. It's good that he's recognized it as an emotional impulse, though, and not a vehement desire he'd want to follow through."

Blaise raised an eyebrow.

"You're suddenly a lot more understanding of someone wanting to see someone's soul destroyed," he commented. "Anything I should know or worry about?"

Hermione laughed.

"No," she said. "Not really. Just…"

She trailed off, lost, reliving Snape's horrific tale.

"I just think that for people who are close to a person's crimes, that emotional urge for vengeance and revenge is understandable," she said finally. "After I was bullied first year, I know how much I wished my attackers harm, and that was mild by comparison to what some people have been through."

"Mild?" Blaise said darkly. "You could have died…"

"But I didn't," Hermione said lightly. "I rescued myself. And that makes all the difference."

Friday's classes had Defense Against the Dark Arts first, and Hermione found herself staring at Lupin during the lesson, barely able to listen to his words and take notes.

Lupin had almost mauled Snape. He'd been inches away from biting Snape, at the very least, condemning him to a cursed existence as a werewolf, or murdering him at the worst. And the worst-case scenario had been more likely, in this instance – there weren't many cases of werewolves stopping eating human flesh when the human couldn't escape.

And Lupin hadn't even been punished.

Hermione found herself torn. Lupin had been a mindless creature of rage through no fault of his own. It wasn't as if he had been the one to dare Snape into danger; Lupin had been more the gun Black had pointed and aimed at Snape, rather than the person firing the gun. Yet, it remained that Snape wouldn't have almost died if not for Lupin.

So… was Lupin at fault at all? Was Dumbledore, for not having more sense and worrying more about student safety? Or was Black to blame for it all?

If nothing else, it made Hermione uneasy as she watched her DADA professor.

He had almost mauled a student, once, when he was a student. All it would take was one missed dose of a potion, and it could easily happen again – with a worse outcome this time.

Hermione found herself sketching out a new plan on the side of her parchment, finally giving up and fully ignoring the lesson. She'd been drafting her first legislation to introduce to the Wizengamot, a bill about werewolves and how to protect the hedgewitches from them, but now she was thinking just protecting the hedgewitches wasn't enough.

What if someone got lost, and ended up in the wrong part of the forest on a full moon night? What if a silver ward were to weaken and break?

What if no one had been there to pull Snape back?

Something would have to be done about the threat itself, Hermione decided. Protecting oneself wasn't enough – the threat itself needed directly addressed, or it would always continue to loom in the background, ready to descend and destroy the moment a mistake was made.

Harry pulled Hermione aside after Transfiguration at the end of the day.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his eyes plaintive.

Hermione gave him a faint smile, one that made Harry's shoulders relax a bit in relief.

"Of course," she said.

He led her up to the window seat on the 8th floor where they'd talked before.

"I'm sorry," Harry said immediately, as soon as they were sitting. "I don't actually—I don't actually want anyone's soul destroyed. I just got so angry, you know? But I wouldn't really—"

"I get it," Hermione said gently. She took Harry's hand in her own and squeezed it. "He took your family from you. Of course you'd want him to pay for it."

Harry squeezed her hand tightly.

"It's not even just that," he said. He ran his free hand through his hair. "It's just… he was my dad's best friend, you know?" He shook his head, melancholy. "How could he betray him like that? If they were best friends? I just don't get it."

A small smile touched Hermione's lips. The way Harry was speaking, fundamentally unable to conceptualize betraying his friends…

Well. It wasn't like she'd ever actually thought Harry would be likely to betray her or the coven, but it was nice to have reassurance that he'd never even imagine doing so.

"I just want to talk to him," Harry said, slumping back against the window with a sigh. "I want to know why. Why did he do it? What drove him to it?" He grimaced. "Not bloody likely, though, is it? The blood ritual didn't even work – we just got Ron's stupid rat."

Hermione's lips twitched. "How is Ron about that?"

"Mixed up." Harry snorted. "On one hand, he never kept Scabbers in a proper cage to begin with, so it's not like he can really blame anyone but himself for him running off. And as much as Ron seemed to resent having to take care of him at times, he was his pet, so I think Ron misses him at least a little." He made a face. "He's putting on a big face, shrugging it off and saying Scabbers will come back when he wants to, but I can tell he misses him."

"Well, the new moon for February is coming up," Hermione said. She shrugged. "We could try to do the ritual again, with new blood."

"Watch me ask Neville," Harry said, eyes lightening with amusement, "and then we get Trevor in the circle, too."

Hermione laughed.

"Well," she said, amused, "at least it'd confirm our hypothesis of what, exactly, went wrong with the ritual as a whole."

Harry considered it, before shaking his head ruefully.

"I'll think about it," he said. "Right now, I need to focus on this upcoming Quidditch game tomorrow."

"Honestly, Harry?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "You're already an incredible Seeker, and now you have a Firebolt. You don't exactly have anything to worry about."

Harry grinned. "Yeah?"

Hermione pushed him. "I'm not flattering you any further as you play with this false modesty. You know you're good."

Harry laughed.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I do, I guess. Just… Hufflepuff lost to Ravenclaw, you know? And they beat us."

"The only reason Cedric Diggory caught the Snitch before you is because you literally fell unconscious when the dementors showed up," Hermione said flatly. "Don't pretend it was an issue with your Quidditch skill."

Harry's face darkened.

"Those dementors…" he said. "You're not supposed to have your wand on the field, but I'll risk a foul called on me if it means I can defend myself if they show up again."

Hermione grinned.

"Well, you have the power of the coven behind you," she reassured him, clapping him on the shoulder. "And a giant stag from nowhere would probably distract the Ravenclaws enough for you to grab the Snitch, too."

Harry grinned slightly.

"We'll see," he said. He turned to look at her more fully, tilting his head. "If we win tomorrow… do you want to come to the party?"

Hermione blinked. "Party?"

"Yeah. Gryffindor will be throwing a victory party, like we always do," he said. "Do you want to come?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Is that allowed?"

Harry grinned sheepishly. "Probably not. But McGonagall lets us get away with it so long as we don't carry on too loudly or too late. She really cares about Quidditch, too."

Hermione snorted. "Of course."

"It's a fun time," Harry coaxed her. "There will be butterbeer, and Fred and George might show off whatever new thing they're busy inventing."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she gave Harry a fond smile.

"I'll think about it, okay?" she conceded. "But no promises!"

"Yes!" Harry smiled widely, his green eyes sparkling. "Good enough for me."