Fractured Triangle

"Ready to go, love?"

Starting, Hermione looked up, blinking. "Wh-what was that?"

She was sitting on the chair in front of the empty fireplace in the triple room which she had shared with Ron and Harry for their last night in London, staring blindly down at the blackened bricks.

Hardly even aware of the two boys moving the trunks around, she didn´t notice Ron had crept up behind her until he spoke, practically leaning over the back of the chair to look down at her.

Ron bent and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "You really need to get some rest, as soon as we´re on the train, Hermione," he said sternly. "You´re still out of it and as soon as we get to Hogwarts..."

"I know, I know," she sighed, managing a rather impressive fake smile, coming to her feet and crossing her arms in front of her body, her hands on her opposite hips. "I go and see Madam Pomfrey."

Her boyfriend smiled broadly at her then heaved her trunk off the bed with Harry´s help, both of them lugging it to the door. Hermione caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and the very false smile plastered on her face.

If she had been able to, she would have slapped herself across the face for lying to her two best friends.

Guilt was already twisting in her gut, her throat constricting as waves of nausea washed over her. She didn´t want to have to lie to them, but this...she couldn´t face them knowing any of this.

"You can do this, Granger," she whispered to herself, trying to ignore the quaver in her voice, picking up her coat and pulling it on. Scooping up Crookshanks from the bed, she kissed between his ears. "Ready to go back to school, Crooks?"

Shifting until he was quite comfortable, the cat nudged his nose under her chin, purring loudly as she hugged him.

With one last look around to make sure she hadn´t forgotten anything, Hermione made her way towards the door. Drawing a breath, she exhaled and hurried out of the room after Ron and Harry, her enormous marmalade cat cradled against her chest.

However, she was less than halfway down the hall when a long, black cane swept up in front of her from an open doorway, stopping her dead in her tracks. Hermione went rigid, eyes widening as Lucius Malfoy lazily emerged from the shadows.

"Ready for school, are we?" he inquired with a chilling smile down at her. "I must say your uniform is rather...becoming."

"L-leave me alone," she whispered unsteadily, back-stepping, the chill she received from his voice raising a rash of goosebumps across her skin. She felt dizzy and sick all over again, but still, her legs refused to let her run.

It was if there was something about him that hit a pause control in her body and she couldn´t do anything until he chose to release it.

It was terrifying.

And he knew it.

Smiling slightly, one eyebrow lifted. "I can´t imagine why you would be so uncivil, Miss Granger," he remarked, with mock grief, shaking his head as he placed the foot of his cane back on the floor. "After all," He took a step towards her and a whimper escaped her throat. "I have been nothing but...polite to you."

"Get away," she tried to force the words out in a shout. Strange, she noticed faintly, how much her shout sounded like the softest whimper in the world. "Get away from me... leave me alone..."

Crookshanks was growling in her arms, his hackles raised. His bottle-brush tail was thumping against her side in an angry rhythm.

The wizard gave the gingery feline a cursory look. "An interesting choice of pet, Granger," he remarked, almost as if interested. Hermione shifted Crookshanks, barely even daring to breathe. "What? You aren´t going to inform me of his name? Even after all our...interludes?"

A fierce hiss from Crookshanks made him arch a brow.

"What a charming beast," he murmured, although his quiet, cold tone suggested that he would like nothing more to skin her pet.

Hermione shrank back, still holding her cat tightly. "Leave him alone," she tried, desperately tried, to sound defiant and strong. Crookshanks´ tail was lashing against her legs and she knew he was ready to leap from her arms.

"You think I would harm the little thing?" Malfoy gave her a patronising look out of his deadly grey eyes. "I wouldn´t waste my time on such wild beasts. I much prefer my pets to be... housebroken shall we say."

Hermione flinched at his words, closing her eyes.

Just when she thought she could cope...

He made it sound so degrading with his careful choice of words, made her feel so cheap and worthless, as if she were nothing more than a captive wild creature, to be used and abused and tossed on the scrap heap.

She heard the squeak of the floorboard, which told her he was moving, and took another frightened back-step, not wanting to open her eyes. She didn´t want to think of him being anywhere near her again, her breath catching in her throat, her grip on Crookshanks slipping.

Crookshanks, however, was fearless.

She felt him use her stomach as a springboard for his hind paws, launching himself out of her arms with the force of a catapult, his caterwaul punctuated by a savage curse from Malfoy.

Opening her eyes in time to see Malfoy stagger back against the wall of the hallway, she gasped at the sight of blood trickling from scratches across his face. Lunging forward, she scooped up Crookshanks and ran towards the stairs, leaving the blond wizard glaring after her.

"Miss Granger," his voice halted her at the top of the staircase. There was something in his voice, his manner, the ice-cold, deadly command that made it impossible to disobey. "Don´t think your wretched little pet will save you next time."

Swallowing a sob of panic, Hermione rushed down the staircase, burying her face in Crookshanks coat as she emerged into the Leaky Cauldron, in time to see Harry and Ron come running back in from the cab.

"Thank you, Crooks," she whispered into the cat´s fur, hugging him tightly.

"C´mon, Hermione!" Ron called over the bustling groups off witches and wizards trying to cram out of the doorway. He waved her forwards. "Get a move or we´re going to miss the train!"

"Coming!" she called back, amazed at how normal she was sounding.

It was going to be all right, she told herself determinedly, pushing her way forward through the group, clutching Crookshanks tightly. She would get to Ron and Harry and soon, they would be back at Hogwarts. She would be safe there.

Her eyes flicked back to the staircase, a bitter, icy fist squeezing her stomach.

Or at least she hoped so.

***

Lying on the seat of the Hogwarts Express, Hermione tried to keep her breathing even and her eyes lightly closed, hoping that her pretence of sleep would be enough to convince her boyfriend and best friend.

She was curled on her side on the seat that was travelling backwards beside Ron, Harry sitting on the forwards-facing seat, both of them talking quietly, so as not to disturb her, the steady rocking motion of the train oddly relaxing.

Hermione had shifted about restlessly for the first half an hour of the journey, leaning against the wall of the cabin for a while, then trying to lean back and use the back of the seat.

Ron had been the one to suggest that she actually get some rest, because she was looking very pale and had large rings under her eyes. He had patted his thigh in offer as a pillow and she had been unable to refuse.

Settled on her right side, Ron seated by the window, she had curled down beside him, using his left thigh as a pillow. Her right arm was curled up to her chest, her right hand spread under her face, the heat of Ron´s thigh through his jeans making her flush a little.

The tartan fabric of the seats was rough, but soft enough to lie on without too much discomfort, her knees pulled up to her stomach and her left arm folded between her stomach and her legs.

One of his hands was stroking through her bushy hair as he talked to Harry, his fingers gentle, the tips barely skimming against the side of her neck.

While, initially, the light contact had almost made her shiver with a combination of self-loathing and distinct unease, she had relaxed into his touch and now, it was as comfortable and reassuring as Crookshanks´ warm body curled against her.

Unsurprisingly, she noticed, they were talking about her.

"She looks so peaceful."

Harry´s voice agreed. "Wonder what´s up."

"Flu?"

There was a pause. "I don´t know, Ron," Hermione felt her shoulders tense, tried to make herself relax. She was asleep, she told herself, asleep and not listening in on the conversation. "She...did she seem...I don´t know...nervous?"

"Actually, yeah," Ron replied. He shifted a little, his hand drawing her hair back and his knuckles gently stroking her cheek. "Malfoy being a git didn´t help, either," he added, a note of bitterness in his voice. "If she hadn´t held me back..."

"And we thought Draco was bad."

Ha! Hermione´s mental voice screeched. If only you knew.

Swallowing hard, Hermione tried not to shift uncomfortably at the mention of the names, although she could feel heat spreading up her pale face. Ron´s gentle hand was coming dangerously close to revealing the bruises on the back of her neck.

"D´you think she´ll be all right? I mean, she looked like she was going to jump out of her skin in Diagon Alley," Ron continued and Hermione was sure she could feel his eyes on her face, intense.

Harry laughed, although it wasn´t a happy sound. "She´ll be back at Hogwarts and we´ll only have to have Malfoy Junior to deal with. He´s hardly even small change when you compare him to his dad," he replied. Hermione´s mental voice was having a field day, passing judgement on all of this. Oh, how much it agreed that Draco Malfoy was nothing more than a piddling little minnow in a pond of sharks. "She´ll probably feel better knowing old Dumble is about."

That was true at least, Hermione thought. After all, if You-Know-Who was afraid of Dumbledore, it went without saying that Lucius Malfoy wasn´t exactly going to be eager to go one-on-one with the old wizard.

"I just wish she would tell us what´s got her so worked up," Ron said quietly. His tone was one of such love and concern that Hermione felt tears pricking behind her eyelids. "I just want to be able to give her a hand. I feel so bloody useless seeing her in this state and not being able to help."

Shifting to hide her tears and to move herself nearer him, she made an incoherent little whimpering sound in her throat, hoping they would think she was dreaming and not listening in as they voiced their concerns.

Ron´s hand immediately brushed down her cheek and came to rest on her shoulder, as she shifted her head on his thigh. However, she also took the chance to turn her body slightly, so she was almost on her back on the seat, blocking her bruised neck from sight.

His fingers stroked tangled hair away from her cheeks and she hoped and prayed that she had been able to keep her tears out of sight.

It wouldn´t help her if he saw her crying again.

Yes, she was allowed to be emotional because she was a girl, but to be crying again, even if she maintained that she still wasn´t feeling well...

They suspected enough already.

She didn´t need them getting even more concerned.

"She´ll be okay, Ron," Harry´s voice had sunk to a murmur, as if worried about waking her. "It´s Hermione. She´s always all right."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, his voice equally low.

His palm rested against her right cheek for a moment, warm as always and a little damp, but she didn´t mind. His thumb brushed down her cheekbone lightly and she could smell the familiar, home-washed, cosy and very Weasley smell of him.

"She´ll be fine," he muttered, his hand slipping down to rest on her shoulder, a secure but soft touch that would prevent her from falling off the rocking seat. His forearm rested lightly across her chest.

Hermione wished she felt as secure in his belief as he did.

Exhaling a slow breath, she could feel the faint body heat of his arm through the thick Weasley-jumper he was wearing, warm and reassuring, not as oppressive as she had worried it might be.

This was...nice.

Comfortable. Secure. Safe.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe.

***

"I´ll ask her if I can get some sleeping potion and just head to bed straight away."

Brown eyes studied her with concern. "You sure you don´t want me to come with you, Hermione?" Ron asked, catching her hands and squeezing her fingertips, which were chilly. "If you want..."

The Gryffindor trio were standing outside the main doors of the Great Hall, groups of various ages filing past them to take their places and await the arrival of the fresh batch of first years.

Hermione hadn´t been around so many people in days and the idea of everyone being there, everyone seeing...

Surely someone would notice...

A shiver scooted down her back and she crossed her arms over her waist again, rubbing at her hips with hands that suddenly felt ice-cold. Too many people and too many eyes for someone not to see. Better that she were absent.

"We could both come, if you need us," Harry added. He was looking at her strangely and Hermione wished she could act a little more normally. He suspected something was wrong, he always had a knack for that...

Shaking her head resolutely, she smiled wanly up at them. "You go to the feast. Both of you," she said. "Ron, your mum said to keep an eye on Ginny and I wouldn´t want you to miss the school song."

"How generous of you," he muttered, pulling a face.

"Ah, Miss Granger," the voice from the marble staircase nearby made the trio turn, each of them smiling in greeting as Professor Dumbledore approached, his blue eyes twinkling at them. "Our Head Girl," he said with a smile, then looked at Ron and Harry, who were grinning proudly at her as she blushed. "And her esteemed cohorts."

"It's good to see you, Head Master," Hermione said, although she couldn´t help feeling a flutter of queasiness. After all, Dumbledore had a gift for always seeming to know everything and she hoped it wasn´t the case this time.

The twinkle in his eye suggested not.

"I do wonder, though." Her back stiffened. Did he know? What did he know? How could he know? Would he tell Harry and Ron? Blue eyes gazed at her with a strange expression and she forced a strained smile, struggling to look relaxed. "Why haven´t you gone into the hall?"

"Hermione hasn´t been feeling too well, Professor," Ron cut in, one hand on her shoulder and Hermione almost hugged him with relief. "She was just going to go up to the Infirmary to get checked by Madam Pomfrey."

"Ah," Dumbledore murmured, his clear blue eyes still on her over the rim of his half-moon glasses. There was something in the way he looked at people that seemed to almost cut to the very core of their heart and soul. She ducked her head, shifting her feet uncomfortably.

Even if she had tried, she knew she couldn´t have lied to Dumbledore.

"Is it all right if I miss the feast, Professor?" she asked timidly. "I-I really don´t feel like eating..." Well, that was no real lie. Her stomach currently felt like it was being squeezed through a wringer.

Dumbledore´s gentle smile seemed to wash over her like a light pouring into a shadowy room, all her fears and unease shrinking away to nothing, as he reached out and patted her hand.

"You just see to it that you have your health, Miss Granger," he said comfortingly, his eyes warm. "I will see to it that your absence is explained. I shall have someone bring you something to your private room, a little later, lest you feel hungry."

Oh yes.

She had forgotten.

Being Head Girl gained her the privilege of having her own private room, which was certainly a blessing considering the state that everything was in, in her trunk.

Hermione managed another smile, slightly stronger this time. "Thank you, sir," she mumbled, then looked apologetically at Ron and Harry. "You two should go in," she said. "You don´t want to miss anything."

"You going to be all right, love?"

Nodding, Hermione reached up and tucked stray strands of hair behind her ear. "I-I think so," she answered, with confidence this time. "You just go to the feast and try to keep Ginny out of trouble."

Ron nodded, he and Harry hurrying into the Great Hall.

"Is there anything troubling you, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore´s calm voice brought her attention back to him and she looked up at him, wondering if she should tell. How she should tell. What she could tell.

Then her mouth spoke, much to her surprise.

"No, Professor. Nothing."

He nodded seriously, although she had a horrible feeling that he knew she wasn´t being entirely honest. "Off you go, then. Madam Pomfrey ought to be there. She does so dislike the start of term feasts."

***

Her new room was beautiful.

Warm and inviting, a flickering fire in the large grate that stood on the wall to the left, her bed against the wall to the right, the broad desk beneath the main window with gold, reds and whites everywhere.

She wish she could have cared more about the soft, bouncy-looking sofa in front of the fire or the shelves on the wall near the mantle which were stacked with books or even with the stunning view from the smaller window ledge, which was edged with a cushion, providing a perfect window seat for her.

She didn´t though.

Kneeling down on the floor, she undid her trunk with trembling fingers and opened it, staring in numbly at the contents.

She had been to Madam Pomfrey and...

A sting of pain and shame pricked her.

She had lied. Again.

She hadn´t been able to admit to what had happened.

When Madam Pomfrey asked what she wanted, she had shown the bruises on her back and said she had fallen. The Matron had looked doubtful and asked if that was all that happened.

Yes, Hermione had insisted. She had fallen and got a few bumps and bruises. She needed something for them, because they were hurting a lot and would it be possible to get a sleeping potion as well.

Several healing remedies for general bruises and injuries had been given to her and then she had been dosed with something for bruises in those `less noticeable´ places, which made her start.

Madam Pomfrey had given her a careful, sympathetic look, but had said nothing, leaving the Head Girl feeling strangely uneasy. Did that mean she knew what had happened? Or perhaps suspected it?

She wanted to ask for a memory charm as well to help her forget everything, but that would mean saying what had happened, and a contraceptive charm, but something told her Malfoy wasn´t exactly one for making stupid mistakes. He would have made certain of that. He wouldn´t want anything to connect him to her.

Although, she shuddered as she started to lift her bloody and stained clothing out of the trunk, he didn´t seem to mind marking her, as if knowing that she would try to hide the evidence as soon as possible.

Piling the items in her trunk on either side of her knees into two separate piles: clean or soiled: she felt oddly detached when the crusts of the dried stains scratched against her trembling hands.

The dirty items would be sent down to the house elves.

They never judged the owners of the clothing and, for once, she was grateful that they - and not witches or wizards - were in charge of care of the household.

The best part was that they didn't necessarily know who the clothing belonged to, only which room it came from.

Every bedroom and dormitory in the castle had an equivalent of a dumb waiter built into the wall. Dirty laundry was put in it and the house elves would receive it, to wash and launder it. The theory was that, since they weren't seeing the person giving them the clothes, it was not their 'Master', so they could not be given clothes - in the dismissing sense - by accident or otherwise.

Hermione had never been more grateful for their technique before this night.

The piles were still building up, when the door behind her opened and Hermione scrambled to her feet, wand in hand. Her heart was pounding furiously and she felt a rush of dizzy relief when she saw who was standing there. "Oh..."

"Hermione!" Lavender Brown squeaked in fright, almost dropping the plate of food she was carrying.

The tall, slender sandy-haired Gryffindor girl was one of the other girls in Hermione, Ron and Harry´s year and, while they had never really become friends, they knew one another and had occasionally spoken.

"What´s up with you, Hermione?" a second voice spoke from just behind Lavender, sounding just as surprised. It was Parvati Patil, no doubt. The slightly shorter, exotic-looking girl and Lavender were practically joined at the hip.

Hermione started, horrified to realise she was still pointing her wand at them, her hand shaking wildly around it. "I...I thought you were someone else," she said lamely as she lowered her hand, looking down uncomfortably.

"Someone else who deserved to have a wand pointed in their face just for opening a door without knocking?" Lavender inquired, her face white. "Blimey, Hermione, remind me not to get on the wrong side of you."

Running a trembling hand over her face, Hermione tried to smile faintly. "I-I-I just was a bit...a bit surprised," she said carefully, wondering wildly if she was going to react like that any time anyone approached her without warning. "Sorry."

There was an uncomfortable silence, as Hermione sat down slowly on the edge of her bed, a feeling of disbelief spreading through her, her wand slipping from her fingers to land silently on the mattress.

She felt sick and dizzy.

She had almost attacked two other students...just because they had opened her door without warning.

"Professor Dumbledore thought you´d want something to eat, but he wanted to have a word with Harry and Ron," Parvati explained awkwardly, to break the silence. "We said we´d bring you something."

Lavender, though, was looking elsewhere in the room. "Hermione, what happened to your clothes, mate?"

Hermione´s head snapped up, eyes wide in panic. "Nothing!"

Lavender´s blue eyes looked at the messy piles on the floor, then cocked her head at Hermione, who was feeling increasingly sick. They had to leave. They had to. They couldn´t stay and work it out.

"Herm, I´ve lived with you for five years. Even I can tell that something went wrong with your packing."

"I-I-I was running late," Hermione replied, a little too quickly, walking forward two steps, to block the larger pile of stained clothing from her two classmates. "We didn´t have time to..."

"Oh, come off it, Hermione!" Parvati laughed, her eyes dancing. "This is you! You have everything packed and ready before most of us have unpacked from the end of last term! C´mon! Let´s see the first mess that Hermione Granger has ever made!"

"It´s nothing," Hermione whispered, shaking her head as both of the girls advanced, giggling their familiar giggles. Her head was spinning. Her hands were tingling and numb. "Please...please...don´t..."

"Its just a bloody big mess, Hermione, no harm in letting us take a peek," Lavender said, depositing the plate she was carrying on the table beside the couch. "It´ll be something to tell the grandkids one day, when you´re a famous witch and we´re just house-witches."

"No..." Hermione shook her head. "No...you don´t have to see this..."

It was too late, though.

"Oh Merlin..." Lavender gasped. "Hermione, is that...?"

Her question trailed off the moment her eyes reached Hermione´s face. Hermione knew why, as well. She had felt the colour sucked from her cheeks and the tears that had become so familiar in the past three days filling her eyes.

Parvati stared at her in shock and pity, a hand at her mouth. "You were...you..." Her tawny skin paled, a greyish hue sliding across her features. "Oh shit... Hermione...oh, shit... I´m sorry... "

Hermione managed to stumble the two steps to the edge of the bed, sinking down on the edge of the mattress, one arm wrapping around the bedpost. Resting her temple against the wood and pressing her eyes shut, she whispered. "I told you not to look."

"Hermione..."

"Don´t..."

"We should get Professor Dumbledore," Parvati´s voice was shaking.

"NO!" Brown eyes opened instantly and she pointed up at them. "You...you aren´t telling anyone about this."

"But you..."

Tears splashed down Hermione´s pale face, but she repeated in a low and dangerous voice. "You aren´t telling anyone about this. Anyone," her voice was shaking so hard that she could barely make out a word she was saying. "No one needs to know...I-I´m all right...I don´t want anyone to know..." Her head bowed again and a quiet sob escaped her. "I´m all right...I am..."

The mattress shifted and she felt a pair of arms wrapping around her. Sinking into the embrace, Hermione started to sob in earnest. "Who did this, Hermione?" Lavender whispered, her own voice laced with tears of anger. "Who was it?"

"I...I can´t..." Burying her face in her hands, Hermione shook her head, tears burning down her hands and wrists, splashing onto her shirt.

Lavender nodded against the top of her head, her arms around the Head Girl. She was crying too. Hermione could feel her tears, could feel her hand stroking through Hermione´s own bushy hair.

It was strange, Hermione thought. She almost felt relieved that someone else knew.

Two someones.

It...

Had it been Ron, or Harry, she would have felt humiliated and ashamed, but she barely knew these two girls. They wouldn´t judge her or treat her like Ron and Harry would, with all their years of friendship.

Yes, she felt a little uncomfortable, but still...

They would be there, but without all the additional strings of long-time friendship.

"We should tell someone what happened, Herm," Parvati´s voice mumbled, one hand resting on Hermione´s knee. She was kneeling at Hermione´s feet, her face tight with concern and pity. "You can´t let him get away with it..."

"I-I don´t want a fuss."

"Fuss my arse," Lavender growled, her grip on the Head Girl protective. Hermione was surprised that she felt strangely safe in the wispy girl´s arms. "You don´t deserve to be treated like that. Tell me who it is and I´ll rip his bloody balls off and use them for Quidditch."

"Lav!"

"Tell me you wouldn´t do the same, Parv," Lavender challenged quietly. "Bet it was some prejudiced pureblood bastard."

Hermione shuddered at the thought of it.

She knew Lavender was from an ancient pureblood family, one of the first to populate Britain, but was one of the few old families who - like the Weasleys - found muggles relatively harmless and amusing creatures.

Lavender, apparently, noticed the shiver. "That´s who it was, wasn´t it?" she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "Who was it, Herm? Avery? Knott? Goyle? One of those incestuous ingrates?"

"Don´t..." Hermione whispered faintly. "Please...don´t do anything...please...just forget it. It happened and I just want to forget about it now..."

"But..."

Tear-filled brown eyes looked from one angry face to the other. "Please," Hermione begged softly. "No one else needs to know...I don´t want anyone else to know. I-I don´t want them pitying me...staring at me..."

Parvati looked dubious. "I dunno, Hermione...I mean, McGonagall..."

"No one," Hermione repeated harshly, her voice choked, her cheek soaked with tears. "Promise me. Promise you won´t tell anyone."

"If...if you´re sure," Parvati said uncertainly. Hermione nodded once. "All right. I won´t tell anyone." She drew an X across her chest. "Cross my heart and witches honour and all that."

"And you, Lavender," Hermione whispered.

Lavender´s blue eyes clouded. "Someone really should be told Hermione, but if this is what you want...I won´t tell anyone until you´re ready, okay?" There was a silence, the sandy-haired witch´s cheek resting on top of Hermione´s head. "We´ll look out for you, Herm. You need anything, we´ll be here."

"You´re stuck with us now," Parvati added, squeezing her knee again.

"Thank you," Hermione managed a weak smile, one hand coming out to squeeze Parvati´s, her head resting against Lavender´s shoulder. She drew a shaking breath and exhaled it. "I-I don´t know why you care so much...especially since we...we barely know each other."

"Herm, we´re Gryffs. We stick together through thick and thin," Parvati answered with a half-smile. "If you had spent more time with the rest of the house instead of your boys, you would have seen it."

Hermione smiled weakly. "Thank you, though," she said quietly, sniffing hard. "It is a bit of a... a relief that someone knows now...I-I didn´t want to upset anyone."

"Ron...he´s taking it very well, considering..." Lavender remarked.

Hermione´s eyes closed, a surge of bile rising in her throat. "Considering he doesn´t know it happened."

"Holy shit! Hermione!"

"No one was meant to find out," Hermione said wearily. "No one. It´s over. I just want to get on with my life. Ron would..." She trailed off, her cheeks burning. What would Ron do? She honestly had no idea. "It´s over now."

Even though she had closed her eyes, she knew that the other girls were exchanging looks, but they had both promised they wouldn´t tell anyone what had happened and they would honour those promises.

That, she knew, wouldn´t necessarily stop them dropping hints, though.

She almost laughed faintly at the thought.

Ron and Harry were going to be so confused by the time the year was out.