Her Sweet, Decadent Smile(A Harry Potter Story)

Chapter 7

"Plants can do that?" asked Harry, before he shrugged. "See I told you. You couldn't have saved her on your own. It's not your fault."

Hermione looked away from him, still unconvinced. She could see Harry's mouth curve into a frown from the corner of her eyes.

"He didn't push her off, did he?" He questioned, hopeful.

"No. He was holding onto me when she fell."

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, looking extremely disappointed.

"Listen," he said. "They told me there was no sign that he was here at all."

"What?" she said in disbelief. "But I was here! I saw him! Doesn't that count as something?"

Harry shook his head. "No physical evidence—er—sorry."

Hermione cursed under her breath and clenched a fistful of her robes in anger.

She vaguely remembered Draco carrying her back to the staircases to the lobby, taking his sweet, precious time, while Astoria screamed mercilessly behind them. She had struggled so much and had managed to bite his arm, sinking her teeth in his flesh as a growl escaped his lips. When she had finally gotten away from him, she'd hysterically ran to the lobby, screamed at everyone present and tried desperately to contact Harry.

But even though Harry had arrived five seconds after he had gotten her message, Draco was nowhere to be found.

Luckily, he'd left her wand on the ground. Godric knows what would've happened if he took it with him.

"But that's not to say I don't believe you," Harry said, trying to sympathize with her. "I do... It's just that, I doubt that they will."

Of course they won't.

"Because he's always so bloody thorough with his crimes," she muttered to herself, seething quietly. She was breathing heavily, she realized, out of anger or exhaustion. Or maybe both.

"I know that look, Hermione," said Harry, while frowning at her again. "Remember you still need to finish the potion. It's your number one priority right now. You've worked too hard for this. Let me handle Malfoy."

Her head snapped up to look at him indignantly, pissed at the idea of not being allowed to get revenge. Harry sighed deeply.

"You know, I—er— dreamt of—of Ron—last night." He paused and shivered a little. It probably hadn't been a very good dream, then. "Thought it must've been a bad sign… and then when you called I forgot everything else and went to you. I was scared, Hermione. I thought—"

She stared at the ceiling and tried her best to keep the tears from spilling out. Ron. Oh God.

"I know it's wrong, but I'm glad it wasn't you. I'm glad you're safe."

Inhaling deeply, she tried to compose herself. She had yet to tell him what had really happened. She dragged him outside, quickly, away from prying eyes. And then she told him every single detail she could remember. Harry listened carefully, his face growing redder as she continued. By the time she had finished, Harry's face was as red as Ginny's hair.

"Bloody hell Hermione!" he exclaimed loudly, catching her off guard. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her angrily, as if he was trying to slap some sense into her. "Did it ever occur to you how extremely dangerous that flower is? Did you even pause to consider that maybe—you were endangering your arse by coming here with Astoria bloody Greengrass? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

She glared at the Aurors who were peeping through the vault-like doors, rattled by Harry's loud voice.

"What are you staring at?" she snapped at them.