'What on earth are you talking about?'
He threw his hands up in exasperation. 'Forget it,' he said. 'I'm leaving, anyway.'
'Leaving?'
'Leaving,' he said, and started to back down the corridor, away from her. 'I've got an errand to do.'
She stared at him. 'You can't just go,' she protested. 'Sirius-'
Draco shrugged. 'So cover for me.'
'What?'
'Cover for me. I've been covering for you since yesterday. Now you cover for me. I'll be back later, maybe tonight. Just.. stall them if they ask for me.'
'Where am I supposed to tell them you've gone?'
'You're clever,' said Draco. 'You'll think of something.'
He turned and began to walk away from her, down the corridor.
'I won't make up lies for you!' she called after him, her voice cracking a little.
He glanced back at her over his shoulder, and shrugged. 'Really?'
he said, with immense disdain. 'And here I thought you loved me.'
Knotting her hands into fists of rage, she watched him go without another word. Then she turned around, and realized, to her horror, that she was completely lost. She stared around her. She was in a hallway lined with portraits, much like the other dozens of hallways in the Manor. And she had been so preoccupied by her argument with Draco that she had no recollection whether she had come from the left, or the right. With a mental shrug of despair, she turned right and walked down a narrow corridor, trying to remember if any of the portraits looked familiar. It was hard to tell — portrait after portrait of pale, blond, arrogant-looking Malfoys stared back at her.
And they all, she thought hopelessly, looked rather the same.
She turned one corner, and then another, and came out into a hallway she was positive she had never seen before. And there, standing in the middle of the hallway, was Ginny.
Ginny glanced up and saw her, and her eyes darkened. She started to turn around to walk away, but Hermione, who was starting to feel as if everyone had begun to hate her, caught at her hand. 'Ginny, don't.'
'Leave it alone, Hermione. I don't want to talk to you.'
'You don't understand. It really wasn't what it looked like.'
Now Ginny looked anxious. 'This is really isn't the time to-'
'Well, when is the time?' Hermione snapped, her voice rising. The pain in her head made her own voice sound shrill in her ears. 'I have to explain to you, otherwise I'll be panicking all the time that you'll tell Harry. And you can't tell Harry, you have to promise me-'
'Hermione, no,' Ginny interrupted, shaking her head at Hermione, but Hermione ignored her.
'Ginny, I promise you, I swear that this is important. I've never lied to him before, do you think I would lie to him about just anything?'
'Hermione! Shut up!' Ginny exploded, but it was too late. The door she had been standing in front of opened, and with a shock that felt like the bottom of her stomach had fallen out, Hermione saw Ron standing there, staring at both of them with astonishment. Behind him she could see the familiar room, the desk, the rows of books, the glass windows — somehow she had come in a full circle and wound up back at the library. And it was quite evident from the expression on Ron's face that Lucius' library did not have soundproofing. 'What,' said Ron, looking from Hermione to his sister, 'are you two yelling about?'
'I,' said Ginny tightly, 'was not yelling.'
Hermione cleared her throat. She was beginning to feel something she had never felt before in her life.
Stupid.
'It's nothing,' she said.
'The hell it's nothing,' said Ron, and broke off as another hand took hold of the door he was holding and swung it wide.
Harry.
She could vaguely see the shapes of Lupin and Sirius behind him, couldn't make out their expressions, and didn't really care. She was looking at Harry, and seeing not just Harry when she did, but the wreck of the fragile structure she had been trying so hard to preserve.
This can't be happening.
'You're lying to me?' Harry said, looking at her with surprise and a dawning sort of dismay. 'Lying to me about what?'
'Are you sure about this?' asked the wizard guard, looking anxiously at the boy in front of him. His face was familiar to him from pictures in the Daily Prophet, and of course the resemblance was there, as well. But the pictures hadn't shown such a cold, set expression. Nor had it shown the fear in the boy's eyes. 'If you don't mind my saying, you don't look all that well…'
'I'm perfectly fine,' said the boy, in the ringingly superior tones of someone used to getting his own way. Although he was wrapped in a floor-length black travelling cloak, and it was not a cold day, his teeth were chattering. 'I'm authorized, is that correct?'
'Well, of course you are, but-'
