topeventhoughithurt.afteramomentofwathinghim,hermionesmiled,justasmallesttwithofthelips.“youarealright,aren’tyou?”sheasked,whenitwasalloverandhehadalmedhimselfdown.“iwouldfeelterribleifyouweren’talright.”

“i’mfine.”hewasn’t.everythinghurtbeausetheywouldn’thealhimanyfurther,andpeoplekeptdroppingineventhoughhewastiredandwouldrathersleep,whihmadehimfeellikeanawfulperson,andallthepotionshehadtodrinktastedawful.“bebetterifharrydroppedin,though.”

hestillhadn’tstoppedtosayhello.everytimeheheardthedooropened,helooksupexpetingtoseehimandisdisappointedalloveragain.atthisrate,hebetterbeomingupwithaverygoodexuseastowhyhehasn’tbeenhereyet.

“harry’s…”shehesitated,andheouldtellshewasdeidingwhihsidetogowith—draoorkeepingharry’strust.“he’sgettingsomethingdone,drao.somethingweallshouldhavetakenareof,alongtimeago.”

“somethingimportant?”

hermionewaswathinghimwithsadeyes.“hethinksso.”

“moreimportantthanme?”

“oh,drao.idon’tthinkthere’sanythingharryfindsmoreimportantthanyou,tely.”hermionestoodupwithanotherwineandgatheredherbagoverhershoulder,leaningdowntogivehimahugbeforesheleaves.“iexpetthat’spartofthereasonhe’sdoingit.”

allinall,bythetimetheeveninghealeromesintogivehimhistenightpotionthatsendshimoffintoadreamlesssleep,he’sgrateful.

whenhewakes,itisdark,butheisertainthatthereissomeonewathinghim.