Her Sweet, Decadent Smile(A Harry Potter Story)

Chapter 7

I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.

She remembered the words so clearly, chanting them in the dull silence of her thoughts. That was precisely how she felt as she stood at the center of the lobby filled with boisterous people talking about the unfortunate accident. They murmured mixed words: some of comfort, some of pity, mostly of blame. They openly stared at her, wondering—always wondering. That's just human nature, she supposed. All these looks and whispers, she was used to them by now and it was always best to just ignore them.

Her mind was far too vacant, her eyes too bleak.

It was too quiet, not because the world around her had suddenly lost its voice and pressed its lips shut. It was because of the walls shielding her from everything else, rejecting all senses and experience, forcing her not to listen. In a way, she understood why Draco had allowed himself to be so indifferent for so long.

She could learn to get used to this— the numbness, the peace.

She thought of heading home, craved it even, anything to move away from the raging storm around her. Grudgingly, she headed towards the vault-like door of the underground passage for the second time that day, eyes red and tired, hair sticking out in all places. She shoved a baffled Auror who was blocking her way, ignored him when he started to say she wasn't allowed in.

The small safety point was currently off limits to the Unexhibitables, but she could care less. She needed to get something off her chest. She found a few people investigating the crime scene rather meticulously. Her gaze fell steadily on a man who was squatting near the edge, staring below. She'd recognize that ruffled jet black hair anywhere.

"Harry," she said quietly.

He made no move to acknowledge her presence and continued to stare down the pit, running his hands through his hair and shaking his head. "Nasty little things," she heard him mutter.

She felt sick on her stomach as thoughts of Astoria being devoured by leeches popped into her mind.

"Is—is she alright?"

"She's fine... She lost a lot of blood, but she's fine." He shifted his gaze to the blue and purple flower in the middle of the pit, still planted atop a tall pile of earth and rocks. "I told you to go home, Hermione. You should rest."

"I'm not going to go home until you hear what I have to say."

"Come off it," he said, waving his hand, as if to dismiss her. "You're just going to blame yourself ag—"

"Well it is my fault, isn't it?" she said irritably.

"For fuck's sake—" Harry finally stood, dusting off his robes and sauntering towards her.

"Oh, don't lie, Harry," she said impatiently. "I know it's my fault and I know you think so too. I shouldn't have let my guard down when he was around. And don't you try sugar-coating it just because I'm your best mate."

"You couldn't have saved her even if you tried, Hermione."

"Excuse me?" she drawled, feeling insulted.

"What would you have done?" he said, while gesturing to the pit angrily with his hand. "Climb down the bottom of this hell hole and haul her up with your superhuman strength? Pray that the leeches would let you pass untouched? We couldn't even get her out fast enough. What makes you think you could have done any better?"

"Haul her up with my—?" she said incredulously. "What?"

Harry gave her a weird look.

Hermione blinked several times and felt the gears on her head turning. She suddenly realized that her magic would have been nullified inside the pit. "Of course!" she said abruptly. "The plant noticed the shift in the atmosphere. It must've had the ability to create wards to block the magic out! How fascinating!"