As someone who'd been pinned to the ground and beaten, Ron Weasley's injuries weren’t any lighter than Goyle’s and the others—and the psychological damage might’ve been even worse.
After all, Ron had made a complete fool of himself right in front of Hermione. Thinking about it now, it was nothing short of social death. Anyone with a shred of dignity would probably avoid facing her altogether.
But surprisingly, Ron’s mental resilience seemed to be holding up...
"Ron, are you okay?"
Harry asked with concern, looking at Ron, who still hadn’t fully recovered and had a noticeable bruise around his eye.
"Yeah..."
But Ron wasn’t paying attention to Harry. His gaze was fixed on Hermione, as if he wanted to explain something to her.
Maybe what he really wanted was her concern—or to know whether her view of him had changed.
"Relax. If those two jerks hadn’t ambushed me, I wouldn’t have ended up like this!"
"....."
"Just watch, Harry. If those two dare to provoke me again, I won’t hold back."
"Is that so... So you were holding back last time."
"You’ll back me up too, right, Harry?"
"....."
Harry opened his mouth but didn’t know what to say. With his scrawny, undernourished frame, how was he supposed to get into a fight?
Besides, even though he didn’t know all the details, he’d clearly seen Ron being carried out like a limp fish. And he’d been told the whole story—apparently, it was Ron who threw the first punch. It wasn’t some sneak attack like he claimed.
As for Hermione, who’d watched the whole thing from start to finish, her eyes were filled with disbelief.
She genuinely couldn't figure out—where on earth did Ron get this kind of confidence...?
...
The skies had cleared, the rain had stopped, and Ron seemed to think he was back on top.
With Harry and Hermione wearing awkward expressions and Ron still rambling on, they walked out of the infirmary—only to run straight into Draco and his group, who looked like they’d come for the same reason.
As the saying goes, when enemies meet, things get tense.
Ron, who’d just been trying to salvage his image, instantly spotted Goyle and Crabbe—the ones who’d put him in the infirmary in the first place.
But his reaction was nothing like the tough talk from earlier...
As if he’d seen something terrifying, he immediately ducked behind Harry, making a complete fool of himself. Draco, who caught the reaction, looked a little surprised.
Pansy, clearly amused, curiously asked Goyle and the others,
"Did you scare him that badly? How hard did you hit him?"
Draco gave Goyle and Weasley a strange look, while Goyle and the others just scratched their heads and chuckled awkwardly.
"Can’t remember."
"I hit Neville."
Draco’s mouth twitched. He honestly didn’t know whether to laugh or get annoyed...
While Draco and the others joked and laughed, the first to make a move wasn’t Ron’s best friend, Harry Potter—it was Hermione Granger, driven by a sense of justice.
She stepped forward, boldly approaching Draco’s group.
"Wait!"
Unlike Ron, who shrank back nervously, Hermione stood tall and unafraid.
"Oh?"
Draco leaned forward with interest, eyeing Hermione as she stood in front of him.
His imposing posture made her instinctively take a step back. But once she realized, she stepped forward again, stubbornly refusing to back down. That familiar defiance made Draco briefly lose his composure...
...
Silence.
They locked eyes.
The wordless exchange between Draco and Hermione made everyone around them shift uneasily.
Especially Ron, who had been standing behind Harry—he now stared at Draco with outright hostility.
Pansy, too, had brushed off the hand resting on her head and was glaring coldly at Draco’s back, though she didn’t step forward to interfere.
Unlike the others, Hermione didn’t seem to notice anything odd. She spoke clearly, one word at a time, explaining why she had stopped Draco.
"Won’t you give us… give me an explanation?"
"What kind of explanation?"
"I think you already know."
This cryptic exchange left Pansy and the others completely lost. Was this how clever people talked?
Was she asking for the reason behind the attack? Or maybe expecting an apology?
From Hermione’s expression, Draco couldn’t tell what exactly she was after. But if it wasn’t for one of those reasons, he honestly had no idea what else it could be.
"Seems like there’s something I don’t know... Did they say something?"
He glanced instinctively toward Goyle and the others, but nothing about them gave him a clue.
Hermione, of course, noticed Draco’s hesitation.
So that’s how it is...
She hadn’t come for an explanation about the fight. What she suspected was that Goyle and the others had targeted them on purpose to extract information about Nicolas Flamel—even using violence if necessary.
Now it seemed that Draco hadn’t ordered them to do it. That realization made Hermione inexplicably relieved... though she wasn’t sure why.
"You… look rather pleased."
"Eh?!"
Draco stepped closer again. The nearness of his face and the subtle scent of ink made Hermione instinctively shrink back.
Maybe it was because he saw through her thoughts—Hermione’s earlier confidence had completely faded.
She gave her head a small shake, then looked up into his grey eyes.
"Harry’s broomstick… was that you?"
"Hermione!"
"What are you saying!?"
Harry’s shock, Pansy’s furious glare, and the reactions from everyone around didn’t faze Hermione. Her piercing gaze stayed locked on Draco.
She didn’t know where the courage came from, but she bit her lower lip and asked the question anyway—one that felt foolish, and totally unlike the composed Hermione. It also wasn’t the right moment for it.
Draco raised an eyebrow. The question caught him off guard.
The broomstick?
She must mean that incident when it spun out of control?
But Draco knew it hadn’t been an accident. And hearing Hermione’s tone, he realized she seemed to know it too—that it was caused by Dark Magic.
So, she suspected him.
"If I said no… would you believe me?"
Asking someone directly if they’re the culprit—of course they wouldn’t admit it, even if it were true. That’s why it was a foolish question.
And after Draco said that, Hermione didn’t say whether she believed him or not.
She just turned and walked away in silence.
Draco blinked in surprise, then let out a soft chuckle.
He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it—but the little witch seemed to walk a little faster as she left...