Echo in the Night|| OC

Chapter Eighteen: Hermione's punch

"Uh- yeah, sure," he said, trying to play it off as impassive. He gave what hope to be a reassuring smile, instead it just revealed his hidden anxiety.

"Neville, I'm not leaving for good. I'll still help you finish when I get back. Ok?"

Neville nodded, switching his attention to his essay while biting his lip, and twirling his quill.

Echo climbed the staircase to the third-year girl's dormitory, and knocked. Light footsteps were heard on the other side. The door opened to reveal a disheveled Hermione with a red, irritated nose and eyes. Tear streaks stained her cheeks, and her hair was frizzier than ever; one could compare it to a lion's mane.

"Echo! What are you doing in here?" asked Hermione while she frantically wiped her cheeks off.

"Neville needed help with his vampire essay and the library was full," Echo said with a shrug. "I also noticed you weren't downstairs with your face stuffed in a book."

"Oh, well- I'm fine," said Hermione with a small sniff.

"I didn't ask if you were okay, Hermione."

"Okay! I'm not!" she shrieked suddenly, running towards her bed and stuffing her face into her pillow, sobbing.

Echo leaned her head back to face the ceiling, sighing deeply. People crying just made her uncomfortable; it's not like she could hug them and let them cry; and people responded to one's gentle tone more than words, something she generally lacked.

After sending a quick prayer to the Gods she followed in, closing the door behind her. She looked as if they were having a normal conversation with how unbothered she seemed. Echo sat on the bed next to Hermione's, not quite sure what to do.

"I-I'm such a horrible friend!" Hermione started into her rant. "I snitched on Harry's broom! I couldn't keep Crookshanks away, and he's gone and killed Scabbers. It's all my fault—!" Her hoarse voice was muffled by the pillow, making her words almost indistinguishable.

"Hermione," Echo sighed gently, "you did do those things, but they were justified. You were worried about Harry's safety — it may not have been the most popular choice amongst the Gryffindor team, but it was the most responsible thing to do."

Hermione lifted her head; fresh tears rolled down her cheeks and her eyes were puffy.

"But what about Scabbers?" she sniffed.

Echo shrugged, "The blame lies on both you and Ron. Instead of cooperating with each other, you both defended your pets and didn't take the necessary precautions without a fight," she paused. "Although, I do believe that Scabbers should've been caged like a normal rat. And Crookshanks should have had free range like the other cats."

Hermione sighed, sitting up into a crisscrossed position. She wiped away the strayed tears and took a couple of sniffles. "You're right," she admitted weakly. "Argghh, but sometimes I just wanna punch Ronald," she groaned, falling back onto the bed.

"If you're going to, might I suggest punching with your first two knuckles — and don't tuck your thumb into your fist."

Hermione smiled lightly, "You're really not a good influence."

"Never claimed I was. And I'm not condoning anything," Echo clarified, "I'm just saying that if you were to, hypothetically, that you do it efficiently and effectively with the least amount of physical consequences."

Hermione laughed, sitting back up. "You know," she started softly, "we haven't really hung out much. I mean, I know that I've been hanging around you and Neville for the past few weeks, but we've never really talked."