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She drew her free hand back with the intention of hammering it into his creamy face, but maybe she was getting too predictable. Her angry eyes shifted to the long fingers tight around her wrist and she felt her blood bubble like sun-stimulated acid.

"Let go of me-

"You've reached your punch quota for now," he told her quietly. Too quiet. "You're going to have to wait another four years-

"Let go of my arm," she advised, biting out each syllable. "Or I swear I will-

"You'll what?" he challenged, tightening his hold and thrusting her hand against the wall, right next to the dent his fist had left.

Her next move was instinctive and quick, and her wand was at his throat, stabbing the space between his Adam's apple and a vein that spasmed with his rage. Her eyes locked onto his defiantly, daring him to goad her further. Hermione didn't doubt for a second that she would hex him to Hogsmead and back if he continued to tease her fragile temper, but his iron-grey eyes barely flickered, and the grip on her wrist remained firm.

"Go ahead, Granger."

And it was his confidence that rattled her the most; that stirred her magic to pour out of her wand and scorch his skin.

"You fucking bitch!" he shouted, stumbling back and clutching the fresh burn on his neck. "You'll pay for that-

"I've had enough of you," she told him, her wand still trained on the blond. "Go back to your room and get some sleep-

"Don't you even try to boss me around you filthy-

"I'm going out," Hermione explained steadily, even if her anger was begging to skip into her words. "So you will have a good few hours undisturbed sleep. I suggest you make the most of them-

"Then piss off already," he grumbled, turning his back to her and heading to his room.

Another door slammed, and she allowed herself to grimace this time.

She needed to get out. The living room was tainted with new and uninvited scents, and she felt like a hunted badger being smoked out of her set. She tore her gaze away from his door and rushed to her bedroom, changing as quick as she physically could. Fully dressed in her jeans and a comfortable jumper to fight the cold, she swiftly left her Head Girl dorm and started for the Library.

The walk was so much longer than she remembered, and the students that were littered sparsely in the corridors were watching her. She would swear it. But they couldn't know about her vile houseguest...could they? Their lingering stares said otherwise and she quickened her paranoid steps until she was racing with burning thighs and slapping footfalls. And then she smacked straight into a tall wall of flesh, but at least it was polite enough to catch her before she fell.

"Neville," she gasped, regaining her balance on his outstretched arms. "Oh, thank God-

"Hermione," he breathed with evident concern. "Are you alright? You-

"I'm fine," she rushed, tucking a stray curl away with trembling fingers. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was-

"You're really pale," Neville commented. "Are you ill or something?"

"No, not ill," she shook her head, offering him a false smile. "I just haven't had any breakfast yet."

"We haven't seen you in ages," he told her, and she realised then just how much he'd matured. "Ginny and Luna were saying they missed you yesterday and-

"I know I've been rubbish recently," she sighed, her eyes downcast. "I'm sorry, I've just been trying to help Harry and Ron-

"You need a break, Hermione," he told her. "Its not good for you, and you really do look ill. Just come and meet us for dinner later?"

She was too tired to protest. "Alright," she mumbled, earning a pleased smile from her friend. "I'll meet you in the Great Hall later."

She slipped past him without waiting for a reply and continued her urgent pursuit for the library, shuddering when a hungry growl of thunder shimmied along the corridors. But it was okay; she could see her target now. She threw herself against the doors and savoured a deep breath to still her jittery chest.

Her cider-tinted gaze flickered around the empty chairs and abandoned desks, instinctively knowing that the vast space was only hers yet again. Even Madam Pince had spent less and less time amongst her precious books and tomes, instead passing most of her time with the professors.

Company could do that for some people; distract from the fear and grief.

She supposed that most people found it more appropriate to enjoy the company of loved ones instead or preparing for exams that might never come to pass. Perhaps even she would have snubbed her favourite hobby if she could actually see any of her loved ones. But she couldn't...

Hermione went straight to her usual table, right at the back in the restricted section. Her desk was tucked away amongst the seldom-used bookshelves, with the perfect amount of seclusion for her to toss aside her troubling notions and swim away with the paragraphs. This was her sanctuary.

Lost with the seductive ink-kissed pages, she could forget almost anything.

She Accio'd her most recent text on Horcruxes and started to read, praying that Malfoy's sneering features would be erased from her mind. At least, for a little while.

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