𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 [𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲

HERMIONE didn't know what to do.

Or she did, but she didn't know how to start—where to start, who to ask. She was terribly conflicted.

Harry offered to help. Stood out of his comfort zone and locked away his precious and fragile pride to help his friend find a man he deeply despised.

Hermione valued his loyalty—despite knowing that her words from earlier clearly cut him deep, and so it was obvious he was simply proving the opposite to what she stated.

She needed to find Malfoy—and fast.

She missed her friend terribly. His company, their conversations. Everything. She missed all of it. She only wanted him back.

How could he have left? Just like that, she often found herself wondering, anxiousness welling up inside of her as hundreds of different possibilities knocked on the walls of her mind.

She was supposed to still be angry with him over what he said to her—the cursed word he tortured her with years prior to his disappearance. But she simply couldn't be—not anymore.

Holding that grudge against him was slowly corroding away at her soul, almost as though it was swelling up inside of her, and she feared it would burst if she continued any longer.

She had no interest in seeking a vengeance—she was far too mature for that.

And she had no understanding of how far she was willing to go in order for that to happen, but she was determined to find out.

Hermione and Harry travelled through the corridors of St. Mungo's, searching each room thoroughly for any sign of the blonde man, or even a lead as to where he may be.

Her feet ached—soreness pulsing through her body as her lack of sleep from her hurt and her determination to find her friend intermixed and was catching up to her.

Harry was exhausted too—they had been looking for hours.

"Hermione, I think we need to stop." said Harry drowsily, rubbing his eyes underneath his round spectacles in an attempt to wake himself up. "Like Aaron said earlier, all of the healers have been searching all over and Malfoy is nowhere to be seen on hospital grounds. He's just not here."

"No, he's not." Hermiones's shoulders caved in in defeat, but then something flared through her as she repeated her friends words in her mind, and she found something—a lead. Hope. "He's not here on hospital grounds, so we must try somewhere else."

"You've been going all day, you need to rest."

"I'll continue the search for him myself if you want to head on home. I'm not giving up on him, Harry. I'm not."

He stared at her kindly, "Hermione, you're exhausted. If you were to find him, you would need to search far. I'm afraid you might collapse if you went out."

"I won't be able to relax until I know where his is." Hermione blurted out, but she didn't feel the regret of her honesty like she expected to, instead she tilted her chin into the air and let her confidence speak for itself.

Harry took a step towards her, placing both of his hands on her shoulders and looked for understanding in her eyes. He sighed longingly, shaking his head. He waited for her to back down.

She intruded on the silence stretched between them. "I'm not stopping until I find him."

"You need to sleep, Hermione. You'll be more alert in the morning. Please just stay at mine and Ginny's tonight. I'll even convince her to help with the search. Please." Harry's face contorted in desperation as he pleaded, and Hermione reluctantly agreed to his clause.