Hermione's mind was a chaotic whirlwind, her thoughts circling around one persistent fear—What should I do next?
She stared blankly, barely registering the tension between Dumbledore and Snape as they exchanged glances. Dumbledore could see the exhaustion and fear etched on her face. The last few hours had been filled with shocks and terror far beyond anything she could have imagined.
Sensing the need to ease the growing tension, Dumbledore's voice softened, "I would advise you and Miss Weasley to remain within the premises. It's for the best."
Hermione's heart pounded. How could he say that? Hogwarts had already proven itself vulnerable, breached by the humanized Dementors. They had taken Fleur, Daphne, and even McGonagall. The school wasn't safe. "But Professor…" she began, her voice shaky.
Dumbledore adjusted his half-moon spectacles, his expression grave yet determined. "We have failed miserably in protecting our students… and your friend, Ron." He paused. "But I will make sure that as long as I am alive, no harm will come to any student from now on."
Hermione's stomach churned at the mention of Ron, the sharp reality of the situation cutting through her fear.
Hermione wasn't convinced, not even close, but she nodded, exiting Dumbledore's office. Her footsteps echoed in the quiet corridors as she walked, her thoughts a tangled mess of worry, guilt, and confusion. Before she knew it, she had reached her dorm.
The room was empty. She sank onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was surreal—how everything had changed so quickly. For years, she had believed that Harry was the marked one, the Chosen One, and that she, a Muggle-born, was just here to learn magic. But the past few days had proven that anything could happen, and her role in all of it was far greater than she ever imagined.
The door creaked open slowly, interrupting her thoughts. Hermione sat up as Luna and Ginny entered the room.
"Ginny?" Hermione asked, noticing the weak smile on her friend's face. Ginny's eyes were red and swollen, her face blotchy from tears. Hermione knew why—Ron's death had broken her.
Luna spoke softly. "She's let her grief out through tears. The recovery will commence soon."
Hermione glanced at Ginny, her concern deepening. "Thanks, Luna," she said, though her eyes stayed fixed on her friend.
Luna settled onto the bed on Hermione's left, while Ginny moved to the bed on the right, her gaze distant and fixed on the floor.
"I think you should sleep, Ginny," Hermione suggested gently.
Without hesitation, Ginny agreed, her voice soft and absent. "Yeah, you're right."
To Hermione's surprise, Ginny stood up and casually removed her top and jeans, seemingly unbothered by the fact that both Hermione and Luna were sitting right there. She was left in nothing but her red bra and panties, her movements mechanical as if her mind was elsewhere.
Luna's eyes widened, and she whispered in a surprised tone, "Ginny!"
Hermione glanced at Luna, her voice soft with concern. "She's not thinking much right now."
Ginny, oblivious to the weight of their stares, laid down on her bed, her red bra and panties the only thing covering her. Her skin was exposed, but she didn't seem to care, her mind somewhere far from the dorm room, far from the tragedy that had struck them all.
Hermione couldn't help but steal quick glances at Ginny's body. She looked undeniably attractive, her curves highlighted in the low light of the room. But Hermione knew this wasn't the time for such thoughts. There were far more pressing matters at hand, and Ginny needed care, not admiration.
Luna quietly made her way to the changing room, returning moments later in an oversized sky-blue top that hung loosely on her frame. The playful images of Thestrals scattered across it gave a hint of whimsy, though the top was long enough to reach her thighs, and she didn't bother with anything else.
Hermione followed suit, heading into the changing room. When she emerged, she was dressed in a simple, sleeveless white top paired with loose white pajamas.
They were ready to rest, but the unease in the room was undeniable.
Time crept by, but sleep refused to come. Ginny lay there, frozen in place, her wide eyes staring blankly into the dark. Hermione noticed every shift in her, the way her chest rose and fell, but there was something unnerving about how still Ginny remained, her expression locked in an almost eerie detachment.
Luna, meanwhile, was whispering softly to herself from the other bed. What she was saying, Hermione couldn't even begin to guess. Luna had always been a peculiar one.
Hermione's attention kept drifting back to Ginny. Every few minutes, her gaze would return, helplessly worrying about her friend, but unsure how to help. Ginny had been through too much, and nothing Hermione could do seemed to bring her any comfort.
Out of nowhere, Luna's voice sliced through the quiet, breaking the tension like glass shattering. "Hermione, stop looking at her. If you want to… then sleep in her bed."
Hermione's heart raced, and Ginny, too, snapped out of her stillness, turning her head to look at her. Hermione's face flushed instantly, heat rising up her cheeks. "Hey! I wasn't… I was just worried about her… checking that she was okay."
Ginny's voice, soft but with a vulnerable edge, asked, "Hermione, would you like to sleep with me?"
The question caught Hermione off guard. Every fiber of her being wanted to say yes, to be there for Ginny. But Luna's presence loomed like a question mark in the room. Was it really okay? Would it be comfortable with her here?
And then, as if to add another layer of strangeness to the moment, Luna offered, in her usual whimsical tone, "Yes, Hermione. Don't worry about me. I'll just watch you both."
Hermione blinked, trying to process Luna's words. Did she really just say that? Was this something Luna enjoyed? The girl wasa total enigma, and now she'd made the situation even weirder.